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■V • , • 

THE HEAD STATION. 

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THE HEAD STATION. 


CHAPTER 1. 

A BUSH FAMILY. 

Thebe could be no pleasanter place in which to dream 
away the hours of a hot December afternoon than the ve- 
randa of Doondi Head-Station, on the Eura River, in the 
colony of Leichardt's Land, Australia. 

This veranda was very broad, and extended round three 
sides of the one-storied bungalow-like house. The bark 
roof slanted downward, and projected its ragged edge be- 
yond the log-posts, which were festooned with climbing- 
plants, peculiar to a sub-tropical climate — the orange 
begonia, the Cape jasmine, the delicate white-flowered 
rinka-sporum — while one side was completely covered in by 
a large-leaved vine of the Isabella grape, which temptingly 
displayed its purpling fruit. 

There were a great many French windows leading from 
the house on to the veranda. Through these might be 
caught glimpses of low rooms, cedar-lined, canvas-ceiled, 
with rugs and skins spread upon the white boards; in the 
center one, a piano, chintz-covered chairs and couches, and 
a litter of books and work; in another, the spotless drapery 
and white daintinesses of a woman’s bed-chamber, left open 
to the general gaze, with that careless simplicity which is 
the charm of an Australian household. 

From the slab walls, branching stag-horn ferns stretched 
out their green antlers; mossy baskets hung from the raft- 
ers; here and there were ranged stands of calladiums and 
such exotic plants as require shade and damp. Squatters’ 
chairs and canvas-covered lounges seemed to invite the in- 
dolent and weary; a sewing-machine stood in the coolest 
corner with a large basket of work by its side. Books, 
newspapers, and children’s toys were scattered about in de- 


6 


THE HEAD STATION. 


lightful confusion; a water-melon cut in half, and a dish of 
figs and guavas, were waiting to be eaten. It was very evi- 
dent that the veranda was more lived in than the sitting- 
room. Here lay a knife of the kind which bushmen love, 
there a stray saddle-strap, and a dirty cabbage-tree hat. 
A loosely coiled stock-whip looked at first sight like a big 
brown snake basking upon the boards. Two kangaroo- 
hounds blinked and yapped at the bees which flitted from 
one deep-scented flower to its neighbor, and at the yellow 
mason-flies seeking their mud nests in the eaves. 

Through the leaf-framed arches might be seen views of 
wild, uninhabited country. A vine-trellised garden sloped 
gently down to a scantily timbered plain, where clumps of 
eucalyptus afforded meager shade to groups of browsing 
cattle, and where gaunt trunks of trees, which had been 

rung and allowed to die slowly, stood like white skele- 
tons waiting to be felled and burned. 

In the middle distance lay undulating tracts of pasture 
and forest, gray-green in tint, with here and there a patch 
of scrub or dark line of creek or gully. Beyond, were 
mountains invading the south-eastern horizon — an irregular 
chain forming the boundary between two colonies — jagged 
bowlders, peaks, hump like hills, covered at the base with 
dense jungle and eucalyptus forests, the summits rock- 
bound and weather-scarred. Here stood Mount Oomongin 
with its rampart of granite, and the curious depression on 
its crown, said by geologists to be the crater of an extinct 
volcano, but where, according to the blacks^ tradition, there 
dwelt in a lake that was fathomless the great Bunyip, father 
of all the minor Bunyips, that haunted lagoons and water- 
holes. From the Hoondi veranda, Oomongin was an impor- 
tant feature in the landscape. Standing in the foreground, 
every crag distinct, every fissure traceable, the sentinel- 
like gum-trees showing white lines against the dull back- 
ground, Oomongin held his own among his more lofty 
brethren. To the right, there was Knapp ^s Oliff, the half 
of a pyramid cleft in twain, its naked side, straight as a 
razor, gleaming in the sun. Then came a gap in the 
jagged outlines of more distant mountains, filled in by a 
blue sea of billowy hills, which spread to the horizon. 
Nearer, the twin peaks of Mount Tieryboo raised their vir- 
gin spires, which, within record, had never been scaled by 
either white man or aboriginal. And aw^ay to the left. 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


7 


another crag, a mighty citadel of Nature, bastions, towers, 
fortifications, all complete to the eye of Fancy, reared upon 
a gigantic wall of rock, in which were caves that might be 
the abode of giants, and clefts that seemed to lead into the 
very bowels of the earth. 

It was a wild region. Here, in these fastnesses, rose the 
Eura River, which, after passing through Doondi, Gunda^ 
lunda, and many other cattle-stations, - swept downward 
through the southern corner of Leichardt^s Land to the ^ 
ocean. Here also lay the sources of the Doonbah. This 
stream flowed in another direction, thundering down the 
rocks, threading the Wild Manx’s Gorge, watering Captain 
Clephane^s station, Tieryboo, and joining a greater river in 
New South Wales. 

There was a dreamy stillness hi the air verging upon op^ 
press] on. Though afternoon had begun to wane, the heat 
was too intense for bird or insect to be noisy. A white 
haze clung to the hills telling of distant bush-fires. The 
wind was scorching, and the parched lawn and sun-baked 
walks seemed to be yearning for moisture. The more ten- 
der flowers drooped their heads, while flaming tiger-lilies, 
red hibiscus, and cripison verbenas flaunted their glaring 
colors aggressively. It was a relief to turn The eyes from a 
pomegranate- tree in full bloom to a well- watered and shaded 
rockery, where scrub-plants flourished, and maidenhair fern 
grew luxuriantly. 

On this side of the house, a flight of log-steps led to a 
grove of orange-trees, under which the ground was strewn 
by ^ rain of fallen petals. This was apparently a favorite 
resort. Beneath the perfumy branches a hammock was 
slung, and here was a lady seated at work, with a baby 
sleeping in her lap, and two children, a girl of seven and a 
boy of five, playing by her side. 

The lady was Mrs. Clephane, the second daughter of 
Duncan Reay, owner of Doondi. She was married to a 
neighboring squatter, and with her children was now on a 
visit to her father. She was a placid, fair-faced woman of 
thirty, handsome, after the Scotch type, with a straight 
rather thick nose; prominent cheek-bones, benevolent lips, 
which receded, showing the gums, and full dark-lashecl 
eyes. 

She was stitching at a child’s frock, but every now and 
then would pause and look out into vacancy with her soft 


8 


THE HEAD STATION?’. 


\iolet eyes. Her eyes belied her character and the rest of 
her face. They suggested a romantic turn of mind, 
whereas she was only thinking, “ I wonder whether there 
will he a mob of fat cattle ready for the butcher next 
month, for we shall want some extra comforts for Jack^s 
niece — English people are so particular;^ ^ or, “I do wish 
that father would take up with politics again, and get into 
the Ministry. It would be so nice to have a few weeks at 
Leichardt^s Town, especially now that there is going to be 
a new governor;^ ^ or, “ Unless the drays come soon we 
shall not be able to make any mincemeat for Christmas,^ ^ 
etc. Mrs. Clephane was perhaps a trifle uninteresting, but 
she was admirably adapted to her position as the wife of an 
ex-hussar, now a squatter, who presumably required a cer- 
tain amount of common sense in his helpmate. 

The boy was like his mother in face, and probably in 
temperament, to judge by the contented manner in which 
he pursued a somewhat monotonous occupation. He was 
scooping up the earth with his dimpled hands and a tin 
pannikin, and rearing a series of hillocks along the path- 
way, a proceeding which discomfited a tribe of wandering 
ants, and excited the remonstrances of his more enterpris- 
ing sister. 

She was an elf-like creature with solemn dark eyes, a 
mop of short black hair, and skinny arms and shoulders, 
which were perpetually poking themselves out of her low- 
necked brown-holland blouse. 

‘‘ Barty, I want to play. Get up, Barty. , Let us jflay 
at imagining something. 

I^’se playing, stolidly answered Barty. 

Barty, are you making graves?^ ^ 

No,^' said Barty; “ I^se making dampers. 

“ But, Barty, me and you will play at burying. Wefll 
try to find a mantis to say the prayers. Barty, clasping 
her little hands in excitement, “ it^s bootiful to play at 
graves. Let us bury Moses. 

Barty suspended Ins operations with the pannikin. “ Oo 
hasnT got Moses, Jinks; God deaded him. DoiUt want to 
play at Moses. 

“ He was took to the top of a high mountain,^ ^ said 
Jinks, reflectively. I just ^spect it was Mount Comon- 
gin, for nobody never goes there except the blacks when its 
bunya-time. Barty, let us ^magine the blacks are the chil- 


THE HEAD STATION. 


dren of Israel, and they brought him down, and we went to 
the camp and fetched him out. Barty,^^ she added, reflect- 
ively, for the suggestion did not appear to stimulate 
Barty’s prosaic fancy, ‘‘ if this was Moses^'s grave, shouldn't 
you like to see him come out and go into another?^ ^ in an 
awe-struck whisper, “ He^d have wings, Barty.^^- 

“ Don^t want to,” steadily repeated Barty. “ Go away. 
Jinks. Oo is a bad girl. Oo^s trod on my dampers. 

“ I wish there was some grown-up people here to play 
with me,” said Jinks, with dignity. “ Children is so tire- 
some. I think you must be cutting a tooth, Barty, yoiCre 
so scotty. ” After this scathing remark. Jinks turned to her 
mother: Mamma, when is grandfather coming home?” 

‘‘ I don^’t know to a day. Jinks,” placidly replied Mrs^ 
Olephane. 

“ Mamma, when are we going back to Tierybbo?” 

‘‘ Gracious! how can I tell, child? When the mustering 
is done, and the drays have come up, and when we^’ve got 
a new cook.” 

“ CanH father^ s niece cook?-” 

That’s certain she can’t. Jinks.” 

But why? You and Aunt Hester can. And Aunt 
Gretta makes the butter. ” 

‘‘ Well, England is different from Australia,” said Mrs. 
Clephane, smoothing the gusset she was stitching. There 
are plenty of servants to do things, and Isabel Gauntlett — 
that’s father’s niece — has been used to grand ways. Just 
you remember that. Jinks, and keep quiet and don’t mess 
about, or else she’ll go back again. ” 

' ‘‘She wants a lot of people to bring her here,” said 
Jinks, contemptuously. “ There’s father and grandfather 
and Combo and Billy. I expect she’s got a lot of things. 
New chums always have a big pack. Is she going to stop 
at Gundalunda with Aunt Judith and Mr. Ferguson?” 

“ She’ll stop there while grandfather goes over to Nash’s 
for the cattle,” said Mrs. Clephane. “ Now don’t bother, 
child; you’re always asking foolish questions.” 

“ Some things is true and some things isn’t,” said Jinks, 
oracularly, “ and little girls must ask to be told.”, 

“ Where’s England?” inquired Barty, roused by Jinks’s 
statement to a sense of his own deficiencies. 

“Dunce!” cried Jinks, with scorn. “Miss Barham 
showed it to you on the map. It’s where father lived when 


10 


THE HEAT) STATION. 


lie was a little boy; and it’s all on the Christmas cards, 
lied berries grow out of the plum-puddings^, and the grass 
is covered with a white table-cloth. ’ ’ 

“ Snow, Jinks/’ amended her mother. Snow is soft 
like cotton- wool, and it melts like ice. ” 

If it is like wool it isn’t ice,” argued Jinks. Did 
you ever see snow, mother?” 

No,” admitted Mrs. Clephane. “ I am a Leichardt’s 
Land native — like you. ” 

‘‘ Nor Aunt Gretta, nor Maafu, nor Uncle Sib, nor no- 
body else has ever seen snow except father, and he does 
sometimes tell crackers,” continued Jinks, weighing the 
question of evidence. Cockamaroo is a cracker. If he 
did live on Comongin, and had his dinner off stewed chil- 
dren, he’d have eaten up all the piccaninnies; and there are 
lots in the blacks’ camp. Perhaps snow is gammon; Uncle 
Sib says Christmas cards are gammon. I wish Isabel 
Gauntlett would put some snow in an envelope and send it 
to me to look at. I’d like to see England. When Patrick 
Desmond asks me again to marry mm I’ll tell him yes if 
he’ll promise to take me to England. That’s what Aunt 
Gretta answers. Mother,” added Jinks, suddenly, ‘‘ Eed 
Dick, from Guudalunda, says that Mr. Ferguson is court- 
ing Aunt Gretta. And when they are engaged will she get 
like Miss Barham and say everything is ‘ so sweet 

Jinks threw herself into a mincing attitude, and was 
sternly reproved for mimicking her governess, and for list- 
ening to the stockmen’s talk. Whereupon she moved 
loftily away, and began to interrogate a Kanaka boy who 
was digging a few paces off. 

“ Maafu,” said Jinks, “ do you ever go courting?” 

The Kanaka paused in his work and turned upon the 
child a puzzled black face, round which the crisp wooly 
hair, artificially lightened by the use of lime-wash, stood 
out like a dull aureole. Then he laughed with the fatu- 
ous chuckle of the South Sea Islander, which differs con- 
siderably from the impish merriment of the aboriginal, and 
resumed his digging. 

‘'I dare say,” observed Jinks, condescendingly, ‘‘that 
you have a different word for it in your language. What 
do you call the place you come from, Maafu?” 

“ Tanna Island, Missee Jinks.” 

“ And did you like leaving your home, Maafu? Or did 


THE HEAD STATION. 


11 


they kidnap you like the man in Mr. Desmond^s song?^^ 
And Jinks rolled out in unmel odious falsetto, with a fair 
attempt at a brogue, 

“ Set every stitch of canvas, 

To woo the freshening wind, 

Our bowsprit points to Cuba, 

The coast lies far behind; 

Filled to the hatches full, my boys, 

Across the sea we go. 

There’s twice five hundred niggers 
In the stifling hold below.” 

My word. Miss Jinks, dat lubly,’^ said Maafu, admir- 
ingly. 

• “ No, Maafu, it isn^t lovely, replied Jinks, impelled to 

candor by the consciousness of superior knowledge. “ I 
am afraid you are not a judge of music. My father says 
the only song I can sing is ‘ the tune the old cow died of 
and that means something nasty. Tell me, Maafu, why did 
you leave your island? WerenT you afraid of being beaten 
and of having a master, like Legree, you know? But per- 
haps you have never read ‘ Uncle Tomb’s Cabin, ^ Maafu ?^^ 

The Kanaka shook his head incomprehendingly. 

It^s a nice story,^'said Jinks. ‘‘I think we might 
play at Eva and Uncle Tom — you and me. YouTe black, 
and I^'m — no, Eva was a good girl, and Jinks is most 
always naughty. Jinks takes a lot of whopping. The 
devil gets inside of her,” here Jinks tragically struck her 
breast — and heM never go out unless he was whopped. 
It^s an awful pit}’, Maafu. Did you come in a ship from 
Tanna?^^ 

‘ ‘ Big ship, Missee Jinks, sailors white, all the rest Tanna 
and Leefoo men,” replied Maafu, becoming animated. 

‘ ‘ White captain say, ‘ You come to Leichardt^s Land and 
work, one, two, three year; then you come back again — • 
massa give you clothes — give you money — you buy tools — • 
you build good house — make your wife like white woman. 
Missionary — he say ‘ go.-’ ” 

“ Oh, you’ve got a wife, Maafu!” interrupted Jinks, 
deeply interested. Does she wear a wedding-ring like 
mother and Aunt Hester?” 

The question seemed a serious difficulty to Maafu. He 
sighed, hung his head, and let his spade drop. Missee 
Jinks,” he said, “every white missees wear ring. My 


12 


THE HEAD STATION. 


wife, she not haye ring — no ring — no good marry. In one 
year Maafu^’s time up, and *lie go back to Tanna. Massa 
Keay, he very kind to Maafu. He lub Missee Jinks, You 
ask Massa Keay to .give Maafu wedding-ring, so that he 
make his wife real missus,, like white' woman 

Jinks reflected, then nodded approvingly, the idea com- 
mending itself to her sense of propriety. ‘‘ That^s very 
right of you, Maafu; I’ll ask grandfather. And you mustn’t 
ever be scotty with your wife, or hit her over the head with 
a nulla-nulla, like Combo. But, as you’re married, you 
can’t ask any one else. I don’t think girls would want to 
marry you,” continued Jinks, impartially, as she surveyed 
the Kanaka from head to toe, “ though a white woman di^ 
marry Jack Nutty, our black stockman at Tieryboo; and 
I’d rather marry you than Combo, Maafu. However, 
there’s no use in thinking of it, for you mustn’t even court. 
You’re like Aunt Hester.” 

Mrs. Murgatroyd?” asked Maafu, thoughtfully, not at 
once perceiving the aptness of the comparison. 

“ She has got a husband, you know, Maafu, only nobody 
will say where he is. I heard Red Dick telling Mrs. Baynes 
that it was of no use for people to come courting Aunt Hes- 
ter, for that she was worse than married already. ” 

‘‘ Jinks!” Mrs. Clephane called sharply from under the 
orange-trees. ‘‘Come here. What is that you are say- 
ing?” 

“ Maafu wants to see the baby, mother,” promptly re- 
plied Jinks. She was well aware that it was treason to 
talk to the servants of her Aunt Hester, who had married 
unhappily, and was separated from a bad husband. ‘ ‘ Come, 
Maafu. ” 

Maafu grinned delightedly; and, led by Jinks, stepped 
modestly toward the white bundle lying on Mrs. Clephane ’s 
lap. He stared at it with tender, round, black eyes for a 
minute, then said, solemnly, “ Dat child a very nice baby, 
missus,” and went back to his digging. 

The Kanaka reverences women and adores children. He 
is loyal in heart, affectionate of disposition and domestic in 
his habits. He has implicit faith in the master who is kind 
to him, though his soul will rise in passionate revolt against 
ill-treatment or betrayal of confidence. 

The native black, on the other hand, knows that honor 
and fair dealing, like clean nails, are among the absurd 


THE HEAD STATEOH. 


13 


peculiarities of the gentleman ; and draws a sharp line be- 
tween the squatter who keeps his word and cleans his nails 
and the bullock-driver who does neither. But he has no 
real appreciation of the virtues in point, and does not resent 
their absence. Far less culpable would it be to .meet a 
black’s guile with treachery, or to cheat a wide-awake white 
man, than to abuse the child-like confidence of the Kanaka. 
Praise and sympathy are life to him. Harshness stupefies, 
and, if carried to excess, kills him, for the Kanaka has no 
great vitality, and dies when life seems no longer a thing 
to be desired. 


CHAPTER II. 

HESTEE MUEGATEOYD. 

JiHKS received a lecture. She was told that little girls 
had no business to talk of their elders, and was for the hun- 
dredth time forbidden to go into the kitchen during the 
visits of Red Dick or of any other stockman in the district. 

“ But, mother, it was in the dairy, not the kitchen. Mrs. 
Baynes was skimming the cream because Aunt Gretta had 
gone for a ride; and Uncle Jo sent me for some thick milk 
to feed his sick calf. And Red Dick did say that it’d be a 
good thing for Aunt Hester if she could find out for certain 
that her husband was dead. Where is he, mother.^” 

Go away, child. I’ve no patience with your curiosity,” 
said Mrs. Clephane, glancing uneasily toward a corner of 
the veranda where her sister, Hester Murgatroyd, was sit- 
ting, in an odd but not ungraceful attitude, her knees drawn 
up to her chin, and upon them a book, over which she was 
poring. She looked completely absorbed ; but some part of 
the conversation must have reached her, for she fiung down 
the book with a sudden gesture of wrath, and rising to her 
feet came down the log-steps toward the little group under 
tjie orange-tree. 

The incorrigible Jinks was saying, ‘‘ I’ll ask Aunt Hes- 
ter; and, if he is dead. I’ll just tell Red Dick so, and Aunt 
Hester may marry any one she likes. ” 

“ You will hold your tongue. Jinks; and, if Red Dick is 
ever again so impertinent as to talk of my concerns in your 
hearing, you will bid him mind liis own business. I thought 
you were a kind-hearted child and a little lady. If you were 


14 


THE HEAD STATIOi^. 


one or the other yon would know that it is insulting to me 
to be spoken of in that way by the stockmen. 

There was a passionate tremor in Mrs. Murgatroyd^s 
voice. Jinks flushed crimson, and her black eyes dilated 
as she looked up at her aunt. 

“ Aunt Hester, I am a lady; and you shall just see. And, 
if I forget, you shall whop me.^"’ 

A peculiar, long-dra^vn Cooee sounded from behind the 
house. “ That^s Uncle Sib, I bet,^-’ cried Jinks; and 
darted away followed by Barty. Mrs. Clephane went on 
placidly with her needle-work. 

Hester Murgatroyd made a few hurried steps down tho 
gravel-path and back again. “ Mollie,^^ she cried, with a 
sort of fierce pathos, ‘‘ how can you sit sewing there with- 
out a word, when you know I^’m in such trouble that I canT 
rest?^^ 

Mrs. Clephane laid down her needle, and gazed at her sis- 
ter with puzzled eyes. 

“ I didnT think you minded, Hester — now.^^ 

‘‘ Now!^-’ repeated Hester. ‘‘ DonT you know that my 
husband,^^ and her voice rang with scorn, “ has been out 
of prison for ever so long? People will hear of it and 
thereTl soon be some gossip for the men^s huts. You donT 
suppose that I^m to be left in peace. 

‘^He canT do anything,^ ^ said Mrs. Clephane, weakly. 
‘‘ I asked Jack; you are quite safe. And he would never 
come to these parts. Is it about that you are troubled, 
Hester 

Hester did not answer for a minute. A rush of blood 
dyed her face. ' ‘ I canT sleep at night, she said, abruptly. 

‘‘ You couldnT write — you couldnT make a play out of 
it, Hester suggested Mrs. Clephane. “ DonT you re- 
member how, at first, when you were sleepless you always 
got up and scribbled — I can see you now with your head 
down close to the paper — and how cross I used to get with 
you for waking me up and making me listen to yourplays^^ 

‘‘ Oh, Mollie, donT go back to that."’^ 

But, Hester, you were such a funny girl! I^ve always 
said you were a shingle short, you know — talking to your- 
self, crying and laughing over a book, and getting into a 
state over some impossible scheme, while yoidd forget all 
about real things, and let your clothes go unmended, and 
the store empty, and the men short of rations. You have 


THE HEAD STATION. 


15 


been all up in the clouds again lately. I thought you had 
forgotten you were ever married. I didnH suppose you 
were worrying about anything but books and ideas. It^s 
no use worrying Hester. He’ll never bother you again. It’s 
just a fit. You’ll get over it, and take up a new set of 
ideas. You wouldn’t have a turn at the sewing-machine? 
Or — what have you done with all the plays, Hester?” 

“ Burned them,” laconically replied Hester. And she 
broke into a most melancholy and unmirthful laugh which 
roused the baby asleep upon her sister’s knee. 

Mrs. Clephane rose and rocked her matronly form to and 
fro, cradling the child against her breast. But the little 
thing’s crying would not be stilled. 

“ Well, it is a bad job,” said Mollie, regretfully, not re- 
ferring to the baby, which she kissed with rapture, and 
apostrophized as a hungry “ little ducksie,” that had slept 
past its dinner-hour, and should be fed at once — that it 
should. 

Then she went into the house with her infant, and Hes- 
ter Murgatroyd remained alone under the orange-trees. 

In Australia, a woman past thirty has lost the tender 
grace and the fairness of youth. This was the case with 
Hester Murgatroyd. She was thirty-two, and her girlhood 
was gone forever. She had never been beautiful; but she 
had been always, and was now, supremely interesting. 

Indefinable charm ” is a stock phrase, and one grows 
tired of its use, implying as it does so much, and express- 
ing so little. Nevertheless, this indefinable charm is a very 
real possession, and Hester unconsciously, rejoiced in it. 

She was tall and rather angular, but she moved freely, 
and the spontaneity of her gestures gave them a sort of dig- 
nity. She was not careful of her appearance, and despised 
little arts of dress and the fashions and daintinesses in 
which most women take pleasure. But this contempt of 
detail harmonized with her bearing, and her limp muslin 
draperies fell naturally into becoming folds, while chestnut 
hair, with a ripple in it, needs no elaborate dressing when it 
adorns a head well set on. 

Hester’s eyes were brown, with irises so large that no 
white showed in the center between the upper and lower 
lids. They were slightly prominent, very dreamy, and had 
an expression of innocence and unconscious pathos rarely 
seen except in the eyes of an animal or a child. Her feat- 


16 


THE HEAD STATION. 


ures were irregular, the cheek-bones too high, the lips too 
thin, and the upper one too long; while her complexion, 
naturally fine and delicate, had the withered look produced 
by extreme paleness. Her smile, however, was full of sug- 
gestiveness, and her wistful eyes seemed to be telling a sor- 
rowful story. 

She stood for a minute or two quite motionless, with her 
hands tightly clasped before her, while she gazed out to- 
ward Mount Comongin. Steps sounding upon the veranda 
caused her to start and color. But the flush died away as 
she recognized in the new-comer her half-brother; and she 
nodded composedly, turning to ascend the steps. 

‘‘Oh, Sib! so it is you! I suppose that everything is 
right at the Selection 

“ How do you do, Hester? The fencers are short of ra- 
tions. Pretty hot, isnT it? And this is your birthday.-’^ 

“Yes, Sib. I am thirty-two to-day. Thank you for 
remembering it. ■’ ^ 

Mrs. Olephane appeared at one of the French windows 
without the baby. “ Oh, Hester, she exclaimed, guiltily, 
“ how stupid of me ! I had forgotten. You should have 
reminded me.^^ 

“ Why, Mollie? Why should any one think of my birth- 
days? • I am getting old, I am thankful to say, and they 
are best passed over without remark. 

Sib, or more properly, Sebastian Eeay, flung himself into 
a squatter^s chair, and mopped his face with a red silk 
pocket-handkerchief. Sebastian was not so good-looking 
as his sisters. He was a lean, stolid-faced youth, uncouth 
and gawky, with dog-like brown eyes, somewhat resembling 
Hester^s in expression, a roughly trimmed beard and mus- 
tache, and legs and arms which seemed to belong rather to 
space in general than to his own body. He did not live at 
Doondi, but at a Selection, a few miles the river. Sib 
eyed Mrs. Murgatroyd with a questiaiiing canine sort of 
anxiety. 

“ Anything gone against the grain, Hester ?^^ he asked. 

Her lips quivered. She turiied!|,way her face, and an- 
swered with a forced laugh, “ No,xfeb; but iPs too hot for 
any one to be cheerful. " 

. Sib whistled sympathetically. Jie guessed that something 
was amiss, but did not inquire.^r; He was a young man of 
few words, and jerked out hisodentences with difficulty. 


THE HEAD STATIOis\ 


17 


J ust then there came dancing out of the sitting-room as 
bright and beautiful a girl as could well be seen in either 
old world or new. A slender figure in blue muslin, with a 
coquettish bib and apron and fluttering ribbons; hair which 
gave golden glints in the sunshine; gray Irish eyes clear as a 
baby^s; a sweet mouth with a beseeching droop at the cor- 
ners; a skin like the leaf of a tea-rose; and a voice, for she 
sung in snatches as she moved, fresh and tender as a bird’s 
trill. 


CHAPTER III. 
geetta’s views. 

This was Gretta, the youngest and only unmarried one 
of the daughters. It must be explained that Duncan Reay 
of Doondi had had two wives, His first had borne him 
Hester and Mollie; his second, an Irishwoman, had been 
the mother of Sebastian and Gretta. She was dead. Gretta 
was ten years younger than her half-sister Mrs. Clephane. 
She kissed the tips of her fingers to Sib, and began to pluck 
at a bunch of grapes. 

You’re just too late to see father. Sib,” said Mrs. Ole- 
phane. She was the only one of the sisters with any tend- 
ency to the Australian drawl. “ He started for Gunda- 
lunda directly after lunch.” 

Where’s Jack Clephane?” asked Sib. 

Oh, hadn’t you heard? Isabel Gauntlett’s steamer was 
telegraphed, and Jack went to Leichardt’s Town to meet 
her. She’ll stop at Gmidalunda foraday or two, and he’ll 
go on with father to Nash’s Station, and inspect that mob 
of cows. ” 

‘‘ What do you think of that, Sib?” said Gretta. Her 
accent was decidedly Irish — the prettiest accent in the 
whole category, v . en producing a mere broadening of the 
vowels and melod'Aus rounding of the words, as though, 
metaphorically, honey were dropping. It was curious to 
note how the family '-ave evidence of a mixed nationality. 
“ Your divinity is abv '-‘t to present herself in the flesh, and 
you need no longer « mfine yourself to adoring a photo- 
graph.” I 

“ Sib’s divinity!” shaifly echoed Mrs. Clephane. 

Oh, Mollie! So you r ver suspected Sib of cherishing 


18 


THE HEAD STATION. 


a secret passion? It is perfectly true, though. He per- 
suaded your husband to give him an old photograph of Miss 
Gauntlett, and it hangs in his room over Billy the bulBs 
pedigree, like an angeFs image above a monumental inscrip- 
tion. By the way, how is Billy, Sib?^^ 

“ Died last night of pleuro,^^ lugubriously announced Sib. 

‘‘ Oh, dear me!'"’ sighed Mrs. Clephane. I am glad 
the Tieryboo cattle have been inoculated. 

‘‘ There ^s a theme for Mr. Durnford's muse,^^ heartless- 
ly rejoined Gretta. “ Our poet-tutor! But I don T fancy 
that his bent is toward the comic. He is like that wander- 
ing butcher who weighed fifteen stone, and who came all 
along the Eura during the drought searching for fat cattle, 
and finding none. DonT you remember him, Hester? 
His face was like a ripe prickly pear; and he was fond of 
reciting Hamlet^s soliloquy. ‘ Tragedy, Miss Eeay, tragedy 
is the figure for me.^ It might be remarked that Jinks 
and her aunt shared a fine faculty of mimicry. ‘‘ Well,^^ 
continued the young lady, ‘‘ I suppose that inoculation will 
form the cheerful theme of conversation for some time to 
come. 

‘‘ Anything been doing, Gretta?’^ asked Sib. 

“ Life couldnT be at a lower ebb,’^ answered Gretta, em- 
phatically. “ Two suspicious-looking Free Selectors were 
seen prowling about the Main Camp yesterday, so we had 
all the station-maps out, ventilated the question of the 
Land Laws pretty freely, and held a council of war as to 
the expediency of doing a little ‘dummying.'’ Oh, that 
the Reay energies would expend themselves upon something 
less depressing than cattle! There is not a spark of enter- 
prise in the whole family. Think of living within thirty 
miles of a gold-field and not owning a claim. We have 
been dull as ditch-water. They are mustering at Gunda- 
lunda, so we have had no visitors this week."’"’ 

Sib laughed. “ Is that your grievance, Gretta?’^ 

“ No, indeed. I have a most melancholy piece of intel- 
ligence to communicate. It has been on my mind since 
eleven o ’clock. We are going to lose our poet. Mr. Durn- 
ford has given notice. We must look out for another tutor. ’’ 

“ What?” asked Sib. “ Has the old uncle at Too woonan 
sent for him back again?’’ 

“ That is not likely,” put in Mollie. “ They had a reg- 
ular quarrel. ” 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


19 


» 

“I don^t wonder/^ said Gretta. ‘ ‘ Fancy expecting a 
poet to manage a public-house. 

‘‘ He wasn^’t a poet then,” demurred Mollie. 

“ Well, imagine a gentleman serving out doctqred grog 
to a set of diggers 

“ It was an hotel,” corrected Mrs. Clephane. Jack 
once set up a first-class accommodation-house,”- she added, 
as though this settled the question. 

“ On the principle that a depraved taste for rum might 
be corrected by sour beer,” laughed Gretta. ‘‘ That was 
one of your husband^ s moral speculations, Mollie; and it 
went smash like the pigs and the kangaroo-hides.” 

Mrs. Clephane looked a little ruffled. “ At any rate,” 
she said, “ Mr. Durnford might have found it worth while 
to try and please liis uncle. If he had shown that that 
wasnT his line, old Raikes would perhaps have given him 
some money to start for himself. ” 

My mother’s sister hasn’t demeaned herself by marry- 
ing an ex-publican,” said Gretta, with spirit; ‘‘ but if she 
had I should do as Mr. Durnford did — cut the connection, 
and ‘ up stick and yan,’ as the blacks say.” 

Mrs. Murgatroyd, who had been snipping the withered 
blossoms from a pot of gloxinia, started at the beginning 
of the conversation, and turned, looking for an instant as 
though she would have spoken. Repressing the impulse, 
she stooped more closely over the stand of fiowers and went 
on with her occupation. 

‘‘ Hester,” said Gretta, ‘‘ haven’t you seen Mr. Durnford 
since Bill Stone brought the mail?” 

‘‘ Ho,” replied Hester, in a stifled voice. 

‘‘ Then you don’t know. He hasn’t consulted you — you, 
his Egeria.” 

The scissors dropped from Hester’s hand. She faced her 
sister, her eyes gleaming, though her cheeks were paler 
than usual. “ What do you mean?” she cried, passionate- 
ly. ‘‘ What right have you — what right have people to say 
such things?” 

‘‘Gracious!” said Gretta, opening her gray eyes wider. 
“ It’s only a little chaff. What harm is there in comparing 
you with Egeria — or Aspasia — no, she wasn’t proper-^or 
any other intellectual young woman with a mission. You 
are always talking of Mr. Durnford ’s mission. Here’s an 
opportunity for him. They want to make him sub-editor 


20 


THE HEAD STATION. 


I 

to the ‘ LeicliardVs Land Review.'’ The letter came this 
morning, and I heard him telling father about it. I shall 
owe Gustavus Blaize one for that/^ added Gretta, savagely. 

It is he who has done it. He fancies himself a patron of 
literature. I know that he writes for the ‘ Review.'’ Well, 
he has robbed our household of its one mafe member whose 
interests are not distinctly bucolic. ‘ Soul can not march 
to the bleating of sheep or the lowing of cattle,^ as saith 
another poet. What do you think about it, Hester 

Mrs. Murgatroyd hesitated for a moment. “You 
shouldnT be sorry, Gretta/"’ she said. “ It will be a step 
to something better. He ought not to bury himself here. 
There are so few Australian writers. It is they who will 
shape the future of Australia. 

“ Oh!'’^ sighed Gretta. “ DonH you go and be joining 
in that cant about the future of Australia. It^s such a 
cheap way of glorifying ourselves. We have no past to 
boast of, so we invent a future. I prefer a country with a 
history. Here it is all nature — nature. I should like a 
little art for a change. What have you got in your swag, 
Sib?’^ 

Sebastian unstrapped a valise which he had brought with 
him, and threw on the floor a collection of books and peri- 
odicals, most of them in new bindings. 

“Why, Sib,'’^ said Gretta, pouncing upon them, “you 
have been to Leichardt’s Town. What are all these? Po- 
etry. ‘ Browning^’s Dramatis Personae. •’ ‘ The Light of 

Asia.^ 

“ That’s for you, Hester. So you can give Durnford 
back his copy. ” 

“ Thank you,” said Hester, faintly. She did not look 
Sib in the face, but moved a pace or two apart and turned 
over the pages of one of the volumes. Her eyes fell upon 
the opening stanzas of “ Prospice;” and then, like a rush, 
all came over her, turning her giddy. The sunny veranda, 
the light talk, the cloud-flecked mountain, the scent of flow- 
ers, the crunching sound made by Maafu’s spade as he 
turned up the dry soil — seemed the unrealities of a dream; 
and for the moment she was standing, the mist in her face, 
the fog in her throat, before her a bitter ordeal — ^^not the 
meeting through death but the parting in life. 

“‘The Nineteenth Century,’ ‘The Australasian,’ ‘Is 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


21 


Life worth Living/ read Mrs. Clephane, continuing the 
list. 

‘‘ Certainly not/Mnterjected Gretta/ ‘ until a thunder- 
storm has cleared the air.' ^ 

‘'It is coming," said Hester. She wanted to hear the 
sound of her own voice-^to assure herself that she was not 
dreaming. “ Look how the clouds are gathering round 
Mount Comongin." 

“ My dear Sib," said Gretta, “ why this shower of mod- 
ern literature! Is it with the view of raising us to Miss 
Gauntlett's intellectual level.^" 

“ I thought," rejoined Sib, looking red and rather sheep- 
ish, “ that she might miss what she has been accustomed to 
in England. She'll expect to find us all a set of Goths." 

“ Speak for yourself. Sib, " retorted Gretta. “ You forget 
that I have largely enjoyed the advantage of Mr. Gustavus 
Blaize's society — and quotations. I may be a barbarian, 
but I'm not a benighted one. Why," she added in a differ- 
ent tone, “ I dare say that I have read more books than 
Miss Gauntlett herself — and think more of such things 
than she who has lived within reach of everything that is 
best in the world. I dream of music, and pictures, grand 
old churches, historic castles, beautiful women, and refined 
heroic men. Ah! we. Australians are like birds shut up in 
a large cage; our 'liv^es are little and narrow, for all that 
our home is so big. " Gretta's voice gained an odd inten- 
sity as she proceeded: “ I want something more than great 
plains, trees, and mountains. I am tired of cattle, and 
horses, and books. Books don't satisfy. I want to fall 
down and worship — Sib, you know what I mean. You're 
always dreaming about England, I know you are — al- 
though you are so rough, and so very colonial, poor boy. 
Oh, dear me! we are not patriots, are we, Sib.^" 

Sib silently shook his head. 

“I shall never marry any one," said Gretta, with 
energy, “ who has not lived all his life in England." 

“ Then I'll tell Eerguson of Gundalunda not to ride here 
courting," cried one of two school-boys, lean, long-legged, 
and indeterminate of feature, who had come through the 
sitting-room to the veranda just in time to catch the end 
of Gretta's harangue. “You had better think twice over 
‘ Old Gold.' ' 

“ He is at any rate a relic of the past," observed Gretta. 


22 


THE HEAD STATION. 


“ ‘ D5^spepsy would a- wooing go, 

Whether his love would have it or no,’ ” 

cried the second school-boy. “ Mr. Gustavus Blaize rode 
over from Wyeroo on purpose to propose. Sib. You never 
saw such a guy as ‘ Old Gold ^ turned out. He might have 
been set up in the Cultivation Paddock for a scarecrow to 
frighten the cockatoos. I say, girls, what is the thermome- 
ter down here? 102^. Ifc^s only 99^^ in the veranda of the 
Bachelors’ Quarters. Come along up there. We have 
slung another hammock, and have put a melon to cool in 
the water-cask. He is a real whopper; green champagne — 
the first of the season,” 

“ Mark and Joseph, ” said Gretta, solemnly, “ the thought 
of that melon is too much for me. As Uncle Blaize would 
remark, ‘ A melon is an agreeable fruit upon a hot day. ’ 
I’ll go, but I make one condition: you’ll be good enough 
to refrain from your unseemly jokes in the presence of your 
tutor. ” 

“ Oh, Durnford is not at the quarters,” said Jo. “ He 
marched out with his Euripides directly after lessons, and 
is half-way to Knapp’s Cliff by now. You can air your 
views quite freely, Gretta. Honor bright. I say, I’m sorry 
you have settled against Ferguson; I should not have ob- 
jected to him as a brother-in-law. He’s a real good chap 
—a sort of Geoffrey Harnlyn fellow, you know. . By 
George! he .can sit a buck-jumper; and you should just 
have seen him running down an ‘ old man ’ when we were 
kangaroo-hunting at Gundalunda. But I suppose he isn’t 
what you’d call a cultivated chap. ” 

“ I’ll tell you what, Gretta,” said Mark, “ if I were you 
I would not chncli matters with anybody till Ferguson’s 
partner has come out from England. Bertram Wyatt will 
be here soon, now. You’ll have a rare good opportunity 
for comparing Young Australia with the superfine home 
articles — finished^ up at Oxford and extra-polished in the 
best London society.” 

“ How do you know that, Mark?” 

“ Hid not you hear old Gustavus Blaize telling us all 
how he had been to Mr. Bertram Wyatt’s rooms during 
that last never-to-be-forgotten trip home, and had seen his 
chimney-glass stuck full of invitations from all kinds of 
swells. I thought it was a rum place to put them. ” 

“ When Gustavus Blaize dies, if he ever gets to heaven’s 


THE HEAD STATION. 


23 


gate, he ^11 say it is not good enough for him, and ask to be 
sent back to England/^ remarked Jo. 

Look here, Gretta,^^ continued Mark, impressively, 
“ you must try your hand on Mr. Bertram Wyatt. You^ll 
find it good practice to flirt with him. Think of the ex- 
perience he has had; and, as you can not be everybody's 
first love, your pride neednT be hurt by playing second 
fiddle to the governor’s daughter. ” 

‘ ‘ Mark, you are vulgar, you are insulting !’ ’ cried Gretta. 

‘‘Aunt Judith says that Mr. Wyatt is still broken- 
hearted,” said Mrs. Clephane, “ and that Miss Baldock 
was very fond of him. It was her father that broke off 
the match. And, now that General Baldock has been 
moved to this governship. Aunt J udith has quite made up 
her mind that the engagement will be on again.” 

“ Come, boys,” said Gretta, “ let us go and attack the 
melon. Where’s Jinks? Hester, are you coming?” 

“ No,” replied Hester. “ My head is aching, I want a 
walk.” 

“ Don’t go too far,” said Sebastian. “ There is a storm 
brewing — ^and a hail-storm if I know the sky.” 

“ Hurrah!” exclaimed Gretta. “ Then there’s some 
hope that we may spend to-night in our beds instead of 
lying gasping in the hammocks. Collect all the hailstones 
you can, boys, and put them in the dairy. To-morrow is 
my churning-day. ” 

“ I wish, ’’said Mrs. Clephane, as they walked up toward 
the Bachelors’ Quarter, a wooden verandaed cottage mid- 
way between the house and the stock-yard, ‘ ‘ that Hester 
would stay in this afternoon. She’ll get soaked.” 

“Oh!” said Gretta, carelessly, “it won’t be the first 
time. An idea strikes Hester, and she starts up and carries 
it through without thinking of anything else. She has got 
excited over poetry or something, and wants a vent for her 
feelings. ” 


CHAPTER IV. 
hestee’ssoreow. 

Hestee Muegateoyd was left alone. She glanced up 
at the sky and then toward the mountains. The twin 
peaks of Tieryboo looked gray and threatening against a 
backgi’ound of grayish cloud; but Comongin stood forth 


24 


THE HEAD STATION. 


clear. Comongin was the Doondi weather-glass. By the 
law of signs and tokens, she assured herself, there would be 
no storm before night-fall. 

Not that it would have kept her at home. Gretta was 
right. Poor Hester was in the mood to be soothed by the 
strife of elements. What matter if it thundered and 
hailed? The crash and the terror would be welcome — any- 
thing to divert her mind from the dreary aching, the sense 
of sutfocation she was enduring. She must be alone. She 
must escape from Sib^s dumb solicitude, from the boys^ 
witless jokes, from Gretta^ s girlish levity. She must draw 
deep breaths, and let out the pain which was choking her. 

Hester went forth. She walked swiftly across the pad- 
dock, through the sliprails, and past a blacks'’ camp which 
lay between the fence and the river. The king of the 
tribe, a white-haired, mangy-looking chieftain, sat en- 
throned upon the opossum rug, his boomerang and waddy 
by his side, and a dirty clay pipe between his toothless jaws. 
Other dusky forms covered with hideous weals and blue 
hieroglyphics, sprawled on red blankets at the opening of 
their gunyahs. The gins, or elder women, blear-eyed emaci- 
ated creatures, lay basking in the sun, liberally displaying 
their tattooed limbs, and ministering alternately to the 
wants of their lords and their piccaninnies. The lubras — 
girls — smoother of skin and with the comeliness of dancing 
eyes and glistening teeth, leaned against the trees and 
plaited dilly-bags, or gnawed bones while they chattered 
like a covey of parrots. 

The old king playfully launched a waddy in the direction 
of the new-comer, and bestirred himself so far as to call 
back the dogs which ran barking from the camp. 

‘‘ Hester, where you go, Hester?"" cried his majesty. 

Stop and woollah along a old man. Old man cobbon 
sick."" Then followed winning cries, “Hester, white 
Mary! Budgery white Mary. This ole woman cobbon poor 
fellow Ba"al toombacco! Ba"al blanket! Ba"al rations!"" 
And then another series of groans, and the advance of a 
bevy of gins, each one more piteous and more loquacious 
than her companion. 

Hester moved aside to escape these importunities, and, 
forsaking the horse-track, walked where no path ’was, by 
the edge of the river which girt the plain and wound up 
into the mountains. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


25 


The white cedar spread its scented plumes of lilac-blos- 
som above her head. The glossy-leaved chestnut dropped 
its heavy pods at her feet. The ti-trees touched her shoul- 
ders with their crimson bottle-brush flowers. In some places 
the bed of the river was wide, and cattle-tracks led down 
to a natural crossing. The stream gurgled gently over 
round stones and brilliant rock crystals, and the banks, 
shelving backward, were overgrown by a spiky yellow -flow- 
ered cactus which gave forth a strong perfume; while here 
and there, a tiny landslip sheltered brakes of maidenhair 
fern. Now, a fallen log intercepted the watery's course, and 
the stream fell in a miniature cascade into some deep dark 
pool, where eddies twirled sluggishly over a fathomless 
hole, and driftwood gathered thickly at flood -mark; or 
again, the channel contracted between grassy cliffs, or the 
current flowed turbid and dark by fringing beds of deadly 
arums and thickets of mulgams. 

Hester trod carefully, alive from habit to a sense of dan- 
ger, and once or Iwice started aside in dread of the ywra 
serpent, which frequents the banks of creeks, or paused to 
assure herself that some stick lying at her feet was not a 
black snake or a sleeping death-adder. 

Gradually, she left the plain behind, and the country 
grew wilder, as the river entered a defile, which narrowed 
almost to a point between granite hills. At the distance of 
about a mile and a half from the paddock-fence the ravine 
widened again. On one side, the river ran close uncler a 
steep rise, on which the long-bladed grass grew rank, and 
bracken fern offered no temptation to adventurous kine; 
on the other, the hills sloped more gently to the level; and, 
jutting out beneath the rocky crest of an inaccessible-look- 
ing ridge, rose a grassy knoll, its summit a plateau, in the 
oenter of which was a green patch fenced by iron railings. 

Here, a giant eucalyptus of the kind called “ apple-tree, 
which somewhat resembles the oak, spread its branches 
over a little cemetery containing but one grave — that of a 
child. 

Hester ascended the rise, and, unlocking the iron gate 
with a key which she took from her pocket, entered the in- 
closure. 

Maafu the Kanaka had been there that morning. This, 
Hester saw at a glance. ’ The fallen leaves of the ever- 
green currajong-tree, which shadowed the grave, had been 


26 


THE HEAD STATION. 


lately swept. The grass was newly mown, there were no 
dead blossoms upon the flowering verbena plants which 
covered the little mound. The headstone was wreathed 
with jasmine, recently clipped, so that it might not en- 
croach upon the inscription, which ran thus: 

In Memory of Maggie, 

Only child of Hester Murgatroyd, and granddaughter of 
Duncan Reay, 

Who died at Doondi, of diphtheria, Sept. 23, 18 — , 

Aged 4 years, 

“ And death carried her child to the Unknown Land.” 

Hester sunk upon the grass. She stretched out her arms 
upon the grave and hid her face upon them. Sobs shook 
her frame. 

Oh, my baby! my baby!^^ she whispered to the sod. 

Why were you taken from me? It was cruel — it’s un- 
just. Women canT live without something to love. They 
werenT meant to. TheyVe got hearts. If I had had you 
I should never have thought— I should not feel like this."*^ 

The rising gasps, drawn up as it were from the depths of 
her being, stifled this pitiful plaint. When her tears began 
to fall she grew calmer, and after a little while lifted her 
wet face, and raised herself to a crouching attitude, her 
hands clasping her knees, her eyes fixed on vacancy. 

She sat thus for some time, formless fancies floating 
through her mind — all bringing a sense of bitterness and 
indefinite injury, with something black and terrible in the 
background which she had not courage to examine. She 
was too wretched to think collectedly. She felt dazed; and, 
also, a womanly instinct made her shrink from analyzing 
the cause of her misery. She saw only images of possibili- 
ties, fair and ennobling, shadowed upon a blank wall, 
which seemed to shut her out from a realization of the act- 
ual. Then a stinging suggestion smote her, and in a mo- 
ment her mental attitude was changed. The blood came 
rushing to her cheeks, and she started up as though she 
had found the smart intolerable. Involuntarily she stretched 
forth her arms, as if to push the doubt from her, then let 
them fall helplessly by her side, and stood ‘erect, her eyes 
gazing outward in tearless dismay, while her lips trembled 
like those of a frightened child. “ It^s because of me,^^ 
J she said, in a broken whisper, that he is going away. It 


THE HEAD STATION". 


27 


is because he thinks that I am — ^because I — The pain 
shook her beyond self-control. Her hands were flung over 
her burning face. “ Oh, I do love him!^^ she said, aloud. 
“ I do love him! I canT bear it.^^ 

The cry brought relief. She restlessly paced the inclos- 
nre. There crept over her a sense of spiritual companion- 
ship with the person who filled her thoughts. Every now 
and then, she glanced round moved by the fancy that he 
was near. It had grown curiously dark, and the sultriness 
had increased. Scarcely a leaf stirred. There was no 
sound but that of the rushing river below. Overhead, the 
sky was gray-green, and, lower on the horizon, lurid. To 
the east, there were banked masses of threatening cloud, 
upon which, by a curious atmospheric effect, the outline of 
the mountains was reflected. The lightning played in 
rapidly succeeding flashes. It was evident that one of 
those terrible tempests peculiar to the district was impend- 
ing. 

Hester felt no fear, though it was impossible that, even by 
walking at her utmost speed, she could reach home before 
the deluge broke. She had no impulse of self-preservation; 
on the contrary, a reckless excitement possessed her, and it 
almost seemed to her heated fancy that the fury of the ele- 
ents was in some way connected with her otvn fate. 

She lingered on, and every instant it grew darker. She 
had a vivid sense of Mr. Durnford^s nearness. But they had 
said that he was gone toward Knapp^s Cliff — miles from 
here. Well, she would go back. She knew of a deserted 
shepherd's hut by the river-side which she might perhaps 
reach in time. 

She opened the iron gate. The first peal of thunder 
shook the rocks. When it was over she heard a rustling in 
the long grass, and a quick decisive step approaching the 
grave-yard. The blood forsook Hester's face. She turned 
and saw a man — tall, broad-shouldered, vigorous-looking 
— advancing across the plateau. It was. Mr. Durnford. 
He pushed open the gate, and accosted her: 

Mrs. Murgatroyd, you here!" 

She did not answer at that moment, for the thunder 
came again, and while they waited she looked at his face, 
noting with secret joy how full it was of concern and agita- 
tion. His gray eyes, which were usually dreamy, looked 
now wild and dilated, and she saw, in spite of his heavy 


28 


THE HEAD STATION. 


mustache and brown beard, that his lower lip was quiver- 
ing. 

‘‘You are alone, and without any wraps, and in that 
thin dress. The storm will be upon us presently, and what 
can 1 do?^" 

“ Nothing,^^ said Hester, quietly. She had the feeling 
now that it did not matter what became of her. He was by 
her side. 

“ What could have induced you to wander so far from 
home? The storm has been threatening since four o^ clock. 

“ You have been further than 

“ Oh, it is of no consequence what happens to me. But 
I donT know how I can shelter you. We could not cross 
the river to get to the old sheep-station. The question is, 
what are we to do:^^ 

“ Stay here and get wet,^^ replied Hester, recklessly; 
“ this is not the first time I have been caught in ^ storm. 
I rather like the sensation though I am not a poet. DoesnT 
this inspire vou, Mr. Durnford? The lightning is very fine 
over Tieryboo, 

He uttered an exclamation of dismay, and drew closer to 
her. Their eyes met. Again the thunder clanged, rum- 
bling among the mountains and swelling loud again. 
Above the protracted roll might be heard a roar in the dis- 
tance like the sound of a rushing cyclone. A keen wind 
had risen, bearing with it an icy chill. It was whirling' 
about the dead leaves and laying low the grass and saplings. 
The limbs of the gum-trees writhed. The earth, which till 
now seemed to have held her breath as one dead, became 
in a minute alive and panting. 

Durnford hastily stripped himself of his coat, wrapped it 
round Hester and drew her by the hand outside the in- 
closure. 

“ DonT you hear the hail?'^ he said, hoarsely. “ If you 
are not afraid, I am frightened for you. But I have 
thought of something. There^s a cave in those rocks above 
us. It’s a short, hard climb. We must do it quickly; it’s 
our only chance. Come!” 

But, though she trembled at the sound of the hail, Hes- 
ter clung with curious hardihood to the wild upland. 

“ Mr. Durnford,” she said, falteringly, “ I can’t climb* 
Let us stay here,” 

“ Impossible! I will carry you. Come!” 


THE HEAD STATION. 


.29 


She resisted no longer. Holding each other^s hands, they 
ran along the plateau and began to scale the hill behind it. 
He hurled himself forward, clearing with one arm a way 
through the scrubby undergrowth; while, with the other, 
he drew her upward. In the intervals between the thun- 
der-crashes they could hear the distant roar, swelling in 
volume and almost drowning the cries of birds and reptiles 
and the stampede of frightened kangaroos; while, glancing 
backward for a second, they beheld, like a leaden curtain 
obscuring the landscape, the onrushing sheet of hail. 
Panting and bruised from their stumbles over the stones 
which at every footfall were sent rolling into the valley be- 
low, Hester and Hurnford paused for a moment to survey 
what remained of the ascent. By the forked flashes they 
saw the bristling clilf close above them; and at its base, 
scarcely visible from the knoll below, was a triangular fis- 
sure in the mountain, hollowed out at the sides, and afford- 
ing space for a family of native bears to dwell comfortably, 
or for two human beings to crouch in perfect security from 
the tempest. 

But a slanting precipice, jagged and tapestried with 
prickly creepers, intervened between them and the refuge 
they sought. The gloom was as of night; and, save for the 
lightning which every instant played round the mountain's 
grim outlines, they could scarcely have seen where to cling 
for foothold. Hester had relinquished Durnford^s hand, 
leaving him free, while she tried to scramble in his wake. 
But her foot slipped upon the crimson blossoms of the 
hennedia and she fell, uttering a cry of helplessness. The 
thorns of the stouter creepers to which she held tore her 
fingers. By the aid of a sapling gum-tree Durnford had 
swung himself higher; now, stooping, he put his arm round 
Hester, and, by an exertion of strength only possible to one 
trained to athletic feats, lifted her to the ledge upon which 
he stood; thus, by three or four desperate efforts he reached 
the foot of the cliff. There was not a moment to be lost; 
the earth shook beneath them, and a few yards from where 
they stood, the advancing hail beat with the force of iron 
against the rocks. One leap. A vivid flash illuminated 
the wall before them; and he bore her almost fainting into 
the cleft. 

A rock wallabi, startled from its lair, flew past them. 
Durnford drew Hester further into the cave. It w^as larger 


80 


THE HEAD STATION. 


than they had imagined^ and in the center they could stand 
upright. The rain was now descending in torrents, and 
the air had become icy cold. Hester shivered, and he 
folded his coat more closely round her. At intervals they 
could see each other^s pallid faces; but in that awful din it 
would have been impossible for human voice to make itself 
heard. But there was no need of speech. His eyes revealed 
what his lips might not have dared to utter. A wild de- 
light thrilled Hester. She knew that he loved her. 

At the height of the storm, when, simultaneously, flash 
blinded and roar deafened, Hurnford put out his hand and 
clasped that of Hester. They held each other thus like 
children to whom contact gives a sense of safety and com- 
fort, and yet with that deeper consciousness which set the 
hearts of both wildly beating. 


CHAPTER V. 

LOVE TALK. 

The violence of the storm was abated. The hail no 
longer clattered against the cliff; it lay piled in jagged 
masses at the mouth of the fissure. The sharp thunder- 
claps had ceased; and there was only a muttering as of spent 
wrath, rising and falling among the more distant mount- 
ains. The storm was flying westward;' and in the east, 
toward which the cleft opened, the sky was blue again. A 
pale gray light, like that preceding dawn, suffused the 
valley, and the drowned hills rose up once more clear and 
beautiful. The joyous gurgling of innumerable new-born 
rills mingled with the beat of steadily falling rain. The 
insects had begun to hum again. Nature ^s aspect was now 
benignant; the desire of the earth was satisfied. 

Hester withdrew her hand from Hurnford ^s clasp. She 
felt faint and dizzy. It was with difficulty that she moved 
to the mouth of the cave. There she sunk upon a project- 
ing ledge and leaned her head against the lichen-covered 
rock. A drop of rain trickled through a crevice above, 
and wetted her forehead. The coldness of it awoke her, as 
it were, from a dream of death and heaven. She had 
been, it seemed to her, so near both. And Duriiford^s 
touch seemed still to cling about her like something living 
and insistent. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


31 


He came close to her. 

“ You know that I love you/^ he said. 

It was the supreme moment; and she knew now that, 
though she had never consciously pictured it to herself, the 
anticipation of it had been for months underlying her ex- 
istence. In the reaction from her excitement she trembled 
like a frightened child; and, covering her face with her 
hands, wept softly, with joy rather than with sorrow. In 
love, joy and sadness interblend so closely that to separate 
them is an impossibility. He waited by her side till she 
was calm again, and the tears no longer oozed from be- 
tween her fingers. Drawing down her hands, he held them 
against his breast. She was forced to bend toward him and 
to meet his eyes, in which an intense, grave yearning was 
pent. The bright steadfastness of his gaze inspii’ed her 
with a feeling of self-abandonment, and of entire reliance 
upon his truth and power to make her life beautiful and 
happy. She did not think of responsibility incurred by 
him or herself — or if for a second, woman-like, it struck 
her that he might be hiirtfully affected, she thrust away 
the idea. His words seemed to have plunged her into a 
delicious stupor. She knew that he was speaking again, 
that he was telling her of his love; and his voice sounded 
strange and sweet. Then the thought flooded her mind 
like the echo of a past pain. Tliis would not last; and she 
cried out^ “ You will not go away? You will not leave 
me?^^ 

he answered, “ I will not leave you till you bid 

mego.^'’ 

“ But, you were — you meant to accept the appointment?^^ 
she said, hesitatingly. 

‘‘ You heard — V’ he began, starting as if with compunc- 
tion. “ It was base of me to let it come upon you so sud- 
denly — I should have spoken to you. But — 

‘ I understand, she said. “ You — it would have hurt 
me. 

This is all wrong, he exclaimed, passionately. The 
other would have been most just to you.'’^ 

‘‘ It is hard — to be just,^^ she said, slowly. 

“ It is impossible, if justice be to keep silence. 

‘‘ she answered, ‘‘ I think there^s one compact we 
ought to make — that is, to be open with each other — even 
if we are to be parted. 


32 


THE HEAD STATION. 


‘‘We can^fc be parted. Love has rights that won^t be 
gainsaid. How can one fight against human nature?^'’ 

“ Oh/^ she said, sadly, “ we ought not to think like that. 
We ought to think of what is our duty. 

“ Duty does not command us to turn away from affec- 
tion which is helpful. I can do you good by sta3dng here? 
I can make your life happier?’^ 

“ I doii'^t know if‘ it would be right, she said, hesitat- 
ingly. 

“ Don^’t you seer^^ he said. “ The thing was done when 
I told you that I loved you. What might have been right 
a little while ago would be wrong now. A word makes all 
the difference — a look even — and there ^s a bond it would be 
wicked to break. ^ ^ 

“ I did not intend to speak of myself but of you,^^ she 
said. “ I ought not to take your love. If it were not for 
me you would marry — ^ ^ 

“ Good heavens he exclaimed. “ Do you suppose that 
such a possibility as my marriage with any one else has ever 
occurred to me sihce I knew you? I shall never marry. 
I^m too poor, for one thing. Do I do you any good?'^ he 
asked, suddenly. 

“ Yes,"” she answered, looking up into his face. 

“ Then that^s all that matters. 

“ Oh!^^ she said, “ a great deal matters besides that.^^ 

His face saddened. He was silent for a few moments. 

“ You are right, he said, quietly. “ There^s a great 
deal besides. Things that it would be folly to shut our 
eyes to. 

“ What things?” 

“ The fret — of a doubtful position."’^ 

She moved a little uneasily. 

“ You mean that we can not be open about our feeling 
for each other?” 

“ Yes — the necessity to guard looks and words — so that 
a false construction should not be put upon our friend- 
ship. ” 

“ Do you find it hard?” she asked, and flushed a little. 
“ I never thought of that.” 

“ I am bound to think of it, for your sake. Yes, it"s 
hard; sometimes the effort to hold myself in has been 
almost too great. But perhaps it wonT be so bad now.” 

“ What other things?” she asked. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


33 


“ There^s the danger of loving each other too much; 
and, perhaps, by and by, the misery of separation. But 
we won^t think of that, or of anything melancholy. 

“ No — not now. 

‘‘We can not give each other our lives, but sympathy 
should count for a great deal; and the happiness we have 
taken ought to counterbalance the pain that is inevitable.-’^ 

“ There must be pain,^’ she said, slowly. “You have 
thought over it?’-’ 

“ Yes,” he replied. “ I have considered poesibihties and 
difficulties as they might affect you — not myself — oh no! 
How have I deserved this happiness? But, you — your 
position is hard. I feared that in speaking I might make 
it more so. I felt that it would perhaps be more manly to 
leave you without putting all to the test. I believed that 
you would understand. But, you see, this has come with- 
out our willing it: and, if there’s suffering, the pain that 
guards against baseness may be a good we should cherish. 
There could never be baseness for us.” 

She drew back, loosing her hands. His words seemed to 
open vistas in her imagination. She exclaimed suddenly, 
“ Oh, I can do you no good — I ought not to let you love 
me!” 

“ That has passed beyond your control — or mine,” said 
Hurnford, triumphantly. “ It seems to me that there is 
but one great compelling fact in all the world — the fact 
that we love each other. Don’t be sad,” he added, in 
clear, tender tones; “ there can be no gladness for me if 
you are sorry; and I am so full of happiness.” 

“ I can not be sorry,” said Hester, very low, “ but there 
are things I see — ^you know — we can never be married. ” 
She looked at him straightlyas she spoke; her face was very 
pale and quiet. “ I shall cripple your hfe. It would be 
like wasting eveiything upon a shadow. You would be 
sorry, after a time, that you had ever known me.” 

He looked at her with troubled appeal. “ You don’t 
really believe that; you could not say it if you had any con- 
ception of how, ever since I began to care for you, you have 
filled my life. You cripple it! Why, you have lifted me 
on wings. You have given me a soul. If it were my fate 
to be shut up in a dungeon for the rest of my existence I 
would not shorten a day of it, for my soul would be with 
2 


34 


THE HEAD STATION. 


yoursj and every hour I should say to myself, ‘ Hester loves 
me/ 

do love you/’ said Hester, with grave sweetness. 
They moved toward each other and kissed tremblingly. 
No further protests were made. In the minds of both 
there was a kind of awe. and upon their happiness a shadow 
of trouble rested. Neither could Lave analyzed this con- 
sciousness, but it was deep in both their hearts. A barrier 
had been passed. They stood in an unknown region full 
of glamour and mystery, which yet they hardly dared ex- 
plore. It was safer to turn back toward the past, and view 
it, transformed as it seemed by the enchanted light which 
now illuminated it. Scenes were retraced, and questions 
asked — brokenly at first — the “whys^^ and ‘‘whens^^to 
which lovers^’s early confidences tentatively shape them- 
selves. And then they said, how wonderful had been the 
combinations of circumstance — how marvelous the inter- 
twinings of the threads! How strange was this unexpected 
meeting among the hills! How manifest the interposition 
of Fate! 

“ It was like a wild dream — the being alone together in 
the midst of the storm, Hester said, and her voice 
quavered. She looked at him with a solemn pleading, as 
though asking him whether she ought to check the out- 
pourings of her heart. ‘‘I have been wishing — I was so 
wretched, she faltered. 

“Tell me everything, he said. “You are right. 
That^s the one compact we must make — perfect openness. 
It is so much better that we should each know what has 
been in the mind of the other — even if it gives pain.^^ 

“ It is all different now,^'’ said Hester; “ there is not 
that terrible separateness — that lonely misery. This after- 
noon when I left home it did not seem to matter what hap- 
pened to me. I wanted to be alone, where no one could 
see or hear me. 

“ My poor darling, he said. 

“ I thought you had guessed, and that you despised me. 
It came upon me hke a great shock when Gretta said that 
you were going away, though I had been unhappy for a 
long time. But to-day — I thought that you would never 
know — that ^e should neither of us know — 

“You had been unhappy for a long time,"" repeated 
Hurnford, with a sort of groan. 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


35 


I did not know at first that it was because I cared for 
you/^ said Hester, speaking with the simplicity of a child. 
“You mustnH think I was always sad. At first it was as 
though something had come into my life which made it 
fuller and more complete. I felt gayer over my work, and 
the days did not drag so heavily, and I liked wandering 
over the hills and thinking of you — I did not think then 
— of this,"’^ she added, hastily, and colored. 

Hear heart of mine!'’^ murmured Durnford. 

“I seemed to be always seeing your eyes, continued 
Hester. “ All sorts of things used to come into my mind 
which I wanted to say to you. And, when we did talk, I 
added so much afterward in thought to our conversation 
that it was difficult to tell how much had been said and how 
much imagined. 

“ Oh,'’^ he said, “ I know that feeling.^-’ 

“ But it did not matter much, for I was certain that you 
understood a great deal without words. 

“ And I also,-’"’ said Durnford. “ It used to puzzle me. 
In the evening when I sat alone at my work the sense of 
your presence was often so vivid with me that I would turn 
to you for sympathy, feeling that in spirit at least you were 
by my side. 

“ Do you remember — began Hester, and broke off 
smiling — half in joy, half in melancholy, “It is foolish to 
go back to such little things, but it is pleasant to think of 
them. Do you remember one day when we sat by the creek, 
and you were reading a translation of ‘Richter ^s ‘ Fruit, 
Flower and Thorn Pieces,^ how your voice trembled at the 
place where Natalie gives Firmian the green rose-branch, 
saying, ‘ When they are young, they hardly prick at all '? 
Natalie was right, I think. It is when the roses are 
gathered in full bloom that the thorns pierce deepest. 

“Well,^^he said, smiling, “I asked you, I remember, 
whether you would rather that the roses should renijlin 
always closed buds and you answered, ^ Yes."^ That reply 
decided me to leave you. You did not guess that day by 
the river, how near I was to self-betrayal. ' 

“ I was thinking,^ ^ said Hester, and there was a note of 
suppressed passion in her voice, “ of thfe misery which 
comes through mistakes and destroyed illusions — of how 
one clutches greedily at -what one believes to be happiness, 
and finds it only dust and ashes. That was what hap- 


36 


THE HEAD STATION. 


pened to me when I was very young. And so you avoided 
me?^^ she added, hurriedly, not allowing him to comment 
upon what she had hinted at. Every day I looked for- 
ward to the evening, and when evening came it was the 
same story: ‘ Mr. Durnford was writing and would not 
come.'’ We did not know then that you were a poet. 
Though when Mr. Gustavus Blaize told us of his great dis- 
covery, that you were the author of ‘ 8oul and Star,-’ it 
seemed to me that I must have felt it all the time I was 
reading the book. 

‘‘ Ah, said Durnford, “I had written my heart out, 
and every line of the poem held a message for you. You 
have inspired all in it that^s worth anything. How curious 
but true,-’ ^ he added, thoughtfully, ‘Hhe intuitive way in 
which a poet^s writing corresponds with the nature of 
the woman he is writing about! Ik’s no conscious proc- 
ess in the poet’s mind; but I am sure the instinct 
is a truthful one. Whenever your nature puzzles me 
a little, and I want to understand you better, I look at 
the sonnets I have written . to you. ” He laughed shortly. 

I cursed Gustavus Blaize for his meddling. Of course I 
believed that you would guess my secret, and resent being- 
gibbeted in that fashion. But you were so sweet, so ten- 
der. I ought to have gone away after our meeting — 
again down by the grave-yard there. You recollect — the 
clear win term's day and the rock-lilies out, and the poinsettia 
flaming against the railings. And you wore a bunch of 
hoya in your belt. You dropped it. I have the withered 
thing now.” 

To Hester this back wandering was sweet. But it filled 
him with agitation of which he was half afraid, and his in- 
ward vision of bewildering possibilities forced him to hold 
his utterances in check. He had paused abruptly, and 
went closer to the cave’s mouth, his face turned from her. 
The rain was still pouring, and a blustering wind swept in 
gusts down the valley and beat against the cliff, driving 
before it fallen leaves and snapped-off branches, the debris 
left by the storm. Above the sound of wind and rain rose 
the rushing of the lately swollen river. 

With a sigh Hester stirred. Look!” said she, point- 
ing to the heavens, which were now irradiated by a gleam 
from the west, ‘‘ the sun will soon be setting, and we are a 
long way from home.” 


THE HEAD STATION. 


37 


‘‘ cried Durnford, passionately, to think that 
there is this world of solitude, and not one corner of it 
where we can dwell alone together! No; we may not leave 
our refuge yet. There'^s a moon to-night; it will light us 
down the precipice. And I can not let you expose yourself 
to this drenching rain. The wind is driving it away. A 
little while, and we shall he safq. in starting homeward. 

^ Hester silently acquiesced, and remained still waiting for 
him to come back to her side. Presently he turned, and 
the thought which had been racking him burst forth fierce- 
ly. “There is hope/ ^ he said; “the hope of your free- 
dom 


CHAPTER VI. 
hestek'^s story. 

Hester started, and exclaimed, shuddering slightly, 
“ Oh, donT. You must not think of that — it is wicked. 
One might wish, and the wish would be murder in thought. 
If you knew how I have prayed to be delivered Irom that 
temptation. 

He became calm instantly, and, seating himself beside 
her, took her hand in his. “ Forgive me,^^ he said; “ we 
will never speak of it again. "" ^ 

“You do not know the story of my marriage she 
asked. 

He shook his head. “ Very imperfectly.-’^ 

“You ought to know. I was much to blame. I de- 
served partly what came afterward. She turned her head 
away, and he saw that a tear rolled down her cheek. 

“You were very young, he said, hesitating, partly from 
ignorance of a subject which was a forbidden one at Hoondi 
and partly from dread of setting loose a flood of sorrowful 
recollection. 

“ Barely seventeen. But— I will tell you everything if 
you care to listen. 

“ I long to know your sad histoi’y and to comfort you. 
But do not speak of it if it would pain you.^'’ 

She made a quick gesture. “ I want you to know.^'’ 

“ Did you love him:^^ asked Durnford, suddenly, and a 
moment later was angry with himself for having asked the 
question. She waited some seconds before answering. 


38 


THE HEAD STATION. 


Yes/^ she said, at length, suppose that I must 
have loved him or I could not have gone through all that I 
did in order to marry him. I disobeyed my father and cut 
myself off from my own people for His sake. But it was 
not the sort of love that stands the test of nearness. It 
was fed on dreams, ignorance, and self-will. You donH 
know what a romantic girl I was — my head stuffed full of 
novels and poetry, and all kinds of nonsense. And then, I 
dare say we weren^t very carefully brought up. I ran wild; 
Mollie was the quiet one and the good housekeeper. She 
got on well with father. You know he is very odd in many 
ways. Hem’ll never give in about anything. If it hadn^’t 
been for my trouble and my coming back to him like a 
beggar I know he would not have forgiven me all my life.'’^ 
Hester paused and laughed sadly. ‘ ‘ My training wash^’t 
much excuse for me, however. See how admirably Mollie 
has turned out. She didn^’t care for novels. 

Hurnford laughed sadly. 

» “ I^m a believer in the doctrine of original sin,^^ Hester 

y\^nt on. ‘‘I am sure that under no circumstances could 
ilollie have behaved as I did; nor could she have the feel- 
fngs that I have sometimes — still.^^ 

Hester sighed. Presently she continued : 

“ I was solitary in my ways and fond of imagining my- 
self into dramatic situations. I used to like wandering 
about the bush by myself — j ust as I do now. He was em- 
ployed as superintendent to some navvies who were at work 
on a telegraph line near us — ^that was in Victoria; we have 
been living on the Eura only about ten years — I used to 
meet him in my walks — and then he would tell me stories 
of his adventures. He had been in America. His life had 
been a very wild one; it sounded unlike anything I had ever 
heard of; it roused my interest and curiosity. Then he 
asked me to marry him. I remember that I went about 
that time for a week to Melbourne, and saw ‘ The Lady of 
Lyons ^ acted one night. It impressed my imagination as 
nothing else has ever done. I felt like Pauline; he was 
Claude Melnotte. Did I tell you that he was beneath me in 
birth? — and, of course, he had no money. We were poor 
too, but my father always thought a great deal about our 
being well-born, and expected us to marry gentlemen. I 
disliked all the squatters I saw; they seemed to me so com- 
monplace. Lance Murgatroyd was different; though in 


THE HEAD STATION. 


39 


many ways he was like a working-man, he had read a good 
deal, and could sing love-songs to queer, wild Indian 
tunes. He was handsome too, with bold black eyes, and a 
reckless dare-devil kind of manner which I thought then 
.very grand and fascinating. I fancied that there would be 
something heroic in leading a rough life with him — in sac- 
rificing my prospects for love of him. My meetings with 
him were all clandestine — you will see from this that I 
could not have been a nice-minded girl — 

‘‘ You were as innocent as you were ignorant, ex- 
claimed Durnford; “ and it was upon this that the scoun- 
drel traded. 

‘‘ At last they were found out,^^ she went on, “ and my 
father forbade me ever to see him again. Well I — I ran 
away with him; and we were married. Then came the 
awakening. Oh, it was bitter! — bitter! — every day, every 
hour bringing some fresh revelation. All the veil of wor- 
ship and romance torn down, and, underneath, coarseness 
which revolted me. I grew to dread being alone with him 
— to dread hearing him speak. 

Hester’s voice faltered. Again Durnford tenderly be- 
sought her not to recall what must be painful to her. 

“ Ho; I^d rather tell you. When he saw that I shrunk 
from him it got worse — he became rude and violent. 
He used to say that he wanted to break my spirit; and he 
taunted me, and coerced me, making me do things I dis- 
liked till I felt like a mad thing. I didnT think of duty or 
of my obligations as a wife. I used to say things to him 
which exasperated him. I never tried to gain any influ- 
ence over him by means of his affection for me, for he did 
care for me after his fashion. It was an affection which 
repelled me and made me hate him. All I wished was to 
keep him at arm^s-length. That made him savage, reck- 
less. He took to drinking, and then he began to beat me.^^ 

Durnford groaned. His grasp of Hester^s hand tight- 
ened. His eyes were fixed upon her face in dumb, indig- 
nant pity. 

‘‘I donT know why I tell you all this, she said. 
“ There ^s no use in making you unhappy. 

Go on,^^ he said. 

“ It lasted for two years, and then I could bear it no 
longer. Her voice became tremulous again. “ I couldn^t 
bear to think that my child would grow up to hear such 


40 


THE HEAD STATION. 


language and — I had a baby; the little thing that is buried 
there — she motioned to the grave-yard. “ One night 
when he was lying drunk I left him. I went out into the 
bush with my baby in my arms. I put a letter beside him 
in which I said that I hated him, and that chains shouldn't 
drag me back to that life of misery and degradation. Often 
when 1 stand looking at the stars I think of that night, and 
of how I guided myself by the Southern Cross in the direc- 
tion of a station not far from where we lived. The people 
there drove me to a township, and at last I got to my 
father, and he took me in and sheltered me.'^^ 

Then there were tears in Durnford^’s eyes when she ceased 
speaking. With the gesture of a child who has told her 
miserable tale and asks for sympathy she put her cheek 
against his shoulder. 

See how I love you. See how I trust you,^^ she said. 

tell you everything. No; there^s more still to tell. 
Perhaps the worst, for it is a shame on the name I bear. 
Looking back, I see that things might have been different 
if I had been different — if I had tried to make him better. 
I see now that there was good in him, and I am sure that 
he loved me. If I had had strength and courage, and had 
accepted my lot, perhaps in time the doing of one^s duty 
might have brought some sort of satisfaction; and he would 
have been saved from what happened after I had deserted 
him. My going away and the drink drove him furious. 
The story was in all the newspapers--! read it. Even now 
I can remember it almost word for word. They were 
drinking in a public-house. One of his companions on the 
line jeered at him for having married a lady. My husband 
drew a knife upon the man and killed him. He was tried 
for manslaughter and sentenced to seven years^ penal servi- 
tude. His term was prolonged because of his attempting 
to escape. It expired a year ago. That day when I prom- 
ised to be your friend I had heard the news of his release. 

Hester paused. There fell silence between them; but it 
was silence fraught with the deepest meaning. Again, 
Durnford rose from her side, and stood looking forth at the 
wreck and havoc which the storm had made. It seemed to 
him typical of the story which had just been told him. At 
that moment a driving mass of clouds parted, and through 
the rift the westering sun sent down a golden ray. This 
gleam irradiating the mountains — and bringing, as it were. 


THE HEAD STATIOJ^". 


41 


promise of renewed vigor to the torn and bleeding trees — 
struck him also as symbolic. Not forever was Hester 
doomed to drag on this maimed weighted existence. A 
wrench, and her bonds might be broken. Thoughts welled 
up in his breast which seemed to demand a complete read« 
justment of his moral attitude ere they could be translated 
into words. The injustice of Fate inflamed him to a 
paroxysm of rebellion. With eager straining, he mentally 
scanned the back-stretching vistas of her miserable youth. 
The more hopeless and exceptional her lot, the greater 
justification did it offer for an overleaping of conventional 
obstacles. 

He turned, paced the cave hurriedly for some moments, 
then halted before her, love- words burning upon his lips. 
Her full gaze rested upon his face, and perceived clearly 
the signs of inward tumult and conflict. Her fine instinct 
realized, though it did not comprehend, the situation. 
With a woman^’s shrinking from the fiercer phases of 
man^s nature she sought to avert the impending crisis. 
Eising from the ledge of rock, she held out to him his coat 
which he had wrapped round her, and which she had taken 
off upon entering the cave. 

“I donT want it now,^^ she said, quietly. “ Fm not 
wet or cold. Put it on, and let us go home.'*'’ 

He obeyed her mechanically. 

‘‘ Let us go,"’’’ she repeated in the same gentle voice. 

It has stopped raining. 

‘‘ Ought we to go? Must we go?"’"’ he asked, dreamily. 
“ OanT we stay a little longer?^^ 

They will be sending out search-parties, she answered, 
with trembling voice. 

She moved into the interior of the cave where her hat 
had been thrown. The darkness seemed to swallow her up. 
He felt as though some taint in him had repelled her. The 
fear of spiritual antagonism between them chilled his hot 
impulse, and wrought in him a sudden revulsion of feeling. 
He approached her, and brought her back to the light. 
They stood hands clasped, and their eyes communed word- 
lessly. At last she said simply, “You have made me very 
happy. I can never be lonely again. 

The little speech, and all the trust in it, brought them 
once more very near to each other. His being vibrated in 
more noble harmonies. This was not the moment for 


42 


THE HEAD STATION. 


analysis; but what scope has the poetic faculty if it be not 
infinitely analytical? It was characteristic of Durnford to 
say, 

‘‘We will be happy, as happy as those who feel deeply 
can be in this painful world. The relation between us may 
be one of the most beautiful and poetic that ever existed 
between poet and woman. Above all, we will consecrate 
to each other our best selves. That other self will be the 
guardian angel to each — and not alone in its mission. 
AVherever two persons are concerned, there are always three 
souls — the man^s, the woman^s, and the soul of Eternal 
Right. The true soul in us will distinguish between the 
Eternal Right and the Conventional Right. We can fear- 
lessly bow to that judgment. 

They parted hands, but kissed not again. There was to 
him a deep meaning in this reticence. He would not at 
that moment let his eyes meet hers. They cast a lingering 
glance backward into the cave, henceforth a sacred temple, 
and then out upon the chastened landscape. The valley lay 
in shadow, but the hills were bathed in golden light, like 
the smile after weeping; and the wind had died down. 


CHAPTER VIL 

AMOHG BAEBAKIAHS. 

“ Mbs. Bluebeakd^s mamma thought it a fine thing to 
be mother-in-law to a respectable three-tailed bashaw. 
AVell, there are advantages — in Australia — to be gained 
from having married the daughter of a rabid oppositionist.^^ 

The speaker was Captain Clephane; the young lady he 
addressed, his niece Isabel Gauntlett. 

“ What does that mean. Uncle Jack?^^ 

“ Why, on the strength of Duncan Reay^s enmity to the 
Eura River Railway, I have got an order from the Minister 
for Works to the effect that we are to be dropped at five 
o’clock to-morrow morning before the slip-rails of Fer- 
guson’s home-paddock. Now make yourself comfortable, 
Isabel, and try to imagine you are traveling by the Great 
Western.” 

“ That’s not very easy. Uncle Jack.” 

“By George! no — not while we are in a vapor- bath, with 


THE HEAD STATION. 


43 


these confounded mosquitoes pitching into us. However^ 
we shall get rid of them when we have passed through the 
sheoak swamps. In the meantime 1^11 see what my swag 
can produce; Persian insect-powder, and a wisp of old 
Jerry^s mane — or, better still, a lump of smoking grass- 
tree out of the station-master^s office. Hi, Beamish!^'’ 

The train had stopped before a road-side station, standing 
in a clearing, against a background of shivering swamp-oak 
trees. Except for a gaunt red-faced man — who in deference 
to his position wore a coat with a badge upon it slung over 
one shoulder, but whose chest was bare, and his sleeves 
tucked up over the elbow — the rough platform was perfect- 
ly vacant; neither passengers nor goods were turned out, 
nor did the official appear to think there was any necessity 
for shouting the name of the station. 

You’re more than an hour behind time. I thought 
you was another special and that they’d knocked off the 
reg’lar,” said he to the guard, in a tone of indolent banter. 

“ Oh, we only does that when the Government members 
ain’t up to the scratch, or when the ministers want an out- 
ing, or when the Premier’s daughter gets married and must 
have a special to take her honey-mooning up the mount- 
ains,” rejoined the guard. 

Well, it’s a thankless business finding fault with one’s 
bread and butter, but old Duncan Eeay was jolly well 
right; and, if this ’ere line wasn’t made for the conven- 
ience of a few cursed squatters, why I’m d d. ” 

“ Look out. Beamish!” said a voice from one of the. 
carriage-windows, the same which had called to him pre- 
viously. Here’s one of the obnoxious crew, and on his 
way up from spreeing in Leichardt’s Town. What do you 
think of that?” 

‘‘ Good-evening, Cap’en Clephane,” said Beamish, ad- 
vancing to the compartment. ^ Well, and I says that you 
deserve your spree; and I always says, cap’en, that for a 

d d squatter, you he’s one of the hardest- working cha23S 

I know. It’s not that I’m agen the squatters; and if you 
was to stand, cap’en, I’d give you my vote. But be a 
Liberal or else be a blasted Conservative. Don’t you go 
mixing the two like this ’ere Ministry. With them it’s 
‘you stick by me and I’ll stick by you,’ and hang the 
country.” 

“I’m sorry you have such a bad opinion of your legisla- 


44 


THE HEAD STATION’. 


tors/^ said Clephane. It^ll be a satisfaction to you to 
bear. Beamish, that there was a row in the House last 
night, and that it^s reported we shall soon have a change 
of ministry. But just let me remind you, there ■’s a lady in 
here fresh from England; and she didn^’t know before she 
started that we made railways out in Australia for the con- 
venience of mosquitoes. I see you have got some grass- tree 
burning in there. Give us a tin of it like a good fellow. 

“ All right, cap’en. I beg the lady^s pardon, I thought 
it was Mrs. Clephane or Miss Reay; and they know our 
ways. ’^ Beamish hurried olf, but presently returned bear- 
ing a bucket containing some smoking peat-like fuel, which 
emitted a resinous and not unpleasant odor. This he 
placed on the floor of the carriage, and the fumes mounted 
upward, creating at flrst a commotion among the buzzing 
mosquitoes. 

‘‘Good-night, cap^en,^^ said Beamish. “Glad to hear 
you aipe going in for a northern station; youTl never make 
much out of Tieryboo, though you neednT be afraid of 
Free Selectors there. Good-night, miss. I hope youTl like 
the bush.'’^ The signal was given and the train moved 
slowly on. 

“ Phew!^'’ said Captain Clephane. “ That^s better. How 
are you now, Isabel 

“ Pretty well, thank you, uncle. I canT say that I feel 
much like going down to Devonshire. And to think (hat 
it is nearly Christmas-time, and that they are all shivermg 
at Heatherleigh! I never felt so hot in my life.'’^ 

“ It^s very good for you, my dear — just what you have 
been sent here for. But you mustnT forget, though the 
thermometer is over 90®, that you are under an open win- 
dow, and that you have got lungs. He unstrapped a 
valise, and drew from it a light rug and a whisk made out 
of a bundle of horsehair tied to a whip-handle, which he 
began to flourish over his companion's head. “ Now just 
wrap my poncho round you, and I will put Jerry’s tail into 
requisition till the mosquitoes get a bit stupefied. Poor 
Jerry! He was my best horse. Killed by a snake-bite!” 

Uncle,” said the girl, touching the handle, “ what a 
sweet smell! What is it?” 

“ Myall wood, my dear. One that I carved in my new 
chum days ready for the thong. A new chum is no longer 
a new chum when he can plait a stock-whip.” 


THE HEAD STATIOI^. 


45 


Captain Clephane was a bronzed, handsome man of 
about forty. In appearance he was an odd combination of 
the squatter and the hussar. He had little English ways, 
a certain timbre of voice, and small niceties of demeanor, 
which clashed with a rough-and-ready manner that it was 
easy to see had been assumed with the Crimean shirt, 
home-made coat, leather belt and pouch, and soft felt pu- 
greed hat. He seemed to look upon life with a dramatic 
eye and to enjoy playing his present part of settler in the 
Antipodes. 

No tropical night could have been warmer than this 
upon which Isabel Gauntlett made acquaintance with the 
Australian bush. The air was steamy and oppressive, and 
occasional flashes of sheet-lightning in the distance, though 
the sky was perfectly clear overhead, told of impending 
thunder-storms. The train crept slowly through marshy 
grounds, misty with exhalations, and thickly overgrown 
with sheoak and wattle. Strange odors arose, and wild 
sounds, and the buzz of innumerable insects. The cries of 
curlew and morepork, and the gurgling coo-roo coo-r-r-roo 
of the swamp-pheasant, struck unfamiliarly upon IsabeFs 
ear. A bright moon shed unbroken reflections upon the 
stagnant pools and imparted a ghostly aspect to the white- 
limbed trees which stretched out in eternal vistas. High 
above the vast solitude were set brilliant southern constel- 
lations new to the English girl — the Southern Cross, Alde- 
baran, the Scorpion, Orion, turned upside-down. 

‘‘What a strange, desolate world exclaimed Miss 
Gauntlett, drawing in her head after a comprehensive sur- 
vey from the carriage- window, “No lights, except stars 
and glow-worms. No sign of human being or habitation, 
nothing but spectral trees. Is it an enchanted forest. 
Uncle Jack? And, good heavens as a prolonged and 
melancholy howling rent the air, “ did you ever hear any- 
thing so eerie! it might be a banshee wailing. Are you 
sure it is quite canny 

“ Dingoes, said Captain Clephane, who always pre- 
ferred to use local nomenclature. “ There’s nothing dis- 
tinctly uncanny in the Eura district except Debbil, the 
Bunyip, and Jinks in her tantrums; and I dare say that 
you will find an intimate connection between the three. 
Come, you will only see everlasting stretches of sheoak and 


46 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


gum-trees. Lie down and let me cover you up and send 
you to sleep. ■’ 

Oh, it is all so new and delightful to me. I like the 
loneliness and immensity of the bush. Though I‘’ve only 
been two days in Australia I am deeply impressed by the 
bigness of things in general."’^ 

‘‘ Dearest Isabel/^ didactically remarked Captain Ole-' 
phane, ‘‘ the Australians are a fine race. They pride 
themselves upon their bigness — metaphorically speaking. 
There is nothing paltry about this country — ^it wasnT made 
for inch-rule measurements. You will observe that we are 
decidedly casual. Life is casual. Society is casual. A 
man may be a reputed millionaire; but if there happens to 
be a drought, a crisis, a fall in wool, or a visitation of 
pleuro-pneumonia, he will be a beggar not many months 
later. If people donT care to earn their grub we are so 
open-handed that they can always get it by loafing. A few 
miles- more or less don T seriously affect one^s landmarks^ 
Where there isnT a bed handy there^s bound to be a blan- 
ket. One isnT particular in counting a few stray head of 
cattle; and, though we can all swear a rounder in the stock- 
yard or on the drafting-camp, as a rule we are a happy- 
go-lucky peaceable lot. Now, as I hinted before, there are 
night-dews in Australia, and you have come out here to 
have a delicate lung patched up. ^ ^ 

“ I feel cured already. Uncle Jack. Three months at 
sea have made a different girl of me. 

Nevertheless, Isabel Gauntlett sighed softly as she turned 
from the window. The sigh was like an echo of some past 
trouble, and seemed rather a note of relief than of pain. 
It was in harmony with her expression of grave serenity — 
of almost wistful resignation. Tliis spirituality of counte- 
nance set her above the ordinary type of English girl, under 
which she might otherwise have been classed, for her feat- 
ures, though fairly well chiseled, had no very special claim 
to beauty. Her complexion was singularly clear, though 
rather pale; her eyes were blue, and looked larger than 
they in reality were, from the violet stains beneath the 
lower lids. She had the consumptive physique, which un- 
doubtedly possesses a charm of its own, differing again in a 
marked degree from the anaemic type admired by the mod- 
ern school. Her mouth was pretty and sensitive, and her 


THE HEAD STATION. 47 

hair a pale flaxen. The face might have been insipid but 
for the darkness of brows and lashes. 

Her dress was simple but artistically made, all its ap- 
pointments dainty even to costliness. She took off her hat, 
covered her fair hair with a scarf of black lace, and lay 
down upon the carriage-seat, which, with the aid of rugs 
and with his valise for a pillow. Captain Clephane had 
turned into a comfortable couch. He still agitated Jerry's 
tail, remarking cheerfully that the brutes were beginning 
to settle, upon the ceiling. 

‘‘ Uncle Jack, you needn't do that. I must get accus- 
tomed to mosquitoes, mustn't I?" 

‘‘ Not if you stay by the Eura. Mountain air is not 
favorable to the propagation of the species. Now, I'm 
going to talk, just to send you off to sleep. You needn't 
listen or answer. My dear Isabel, they are always telling 
me that I'm not a practical man. It's a sort of fixed 
axiom; it was grounded, I believe, upon a scheme I had 
for penning the wild pigs on Tieryboo, fattening 'em, and 
sending 'em to the Sydney market — the whole thing mis- 
carried because of the difficulty of getting them there. 
Then I had a plan for turning the marsupials into a profit- 
able speculation; that didn't do either. Well, perhaps I 
had better admit that I am apt to be carried away by first 
impressions. My first distinct impressions of the Eura dis- 
trict were absence of mosquitoes and magnificence of 
scenery, inaccessible peaks, splendid rocky gorges, brill- 
iancy of coloring — for Australia — which was a relief to the 
eye after the salt-bush plains and mangrove fiats of the 
coast-station, where I spent the days of my new-chumhood. 
A winter sunset, the sight of a flame-tree on the borders of 
a scrub, and — tell it not in Gath — the quantity of wild -duck 
in the river, decided my fate. Tieryboo was for sale. I 
had five thousand pounds to my credit at the bank. In 
vain the wise men pointed out to me that Tieryboo would 
fatten pigs but not cattle. I couldn't tear myself from the 
spot. I bought it. I married Duncan Eeay's daughter. 
I've climbed every mountain within reach; I've botanized, 
discovered gold, coal, opals — always with this drawback — 
the mines hadn't working capabilities. I have had no end 
of sport and amusement in shooting wild horses and run- 
ning in scrubbers; but I am bound to confess that I have 


48 


THE HEAD STATION. 


not found it a profitable investment.- What does it matter? 
I^m very happy. And think of the incalculable benefit one 
derives from being in a healthy moral atmosphere! Pure 
ozone, compared with the fetid breath of London society.-’^ 
Jerry's tail waved to and fro with redoubled vigor. Dis- 
sipation, debt, philandering, false appearance, false senti- 
ment, sham morality, froth, and slavery. That's life over 
there. Here, a man is a man, and doesn't require a tailor. 
Why, Mollie cuts out my shirts and I buy my breeches 
ready made at a Cheapjack store in Wyeroo. Are you 
listening, Isabel?" 

‘‘ Yes, uncle; go on — I am very much interested." 

‘‘ That won't do, you know. Y^ou must try and get 
drowsy. As for pleasure, if one considers the subject 
philosophically — I have been thinking it out — it's a mere 
matter of comparison. Look at what our fellows used to 
go through — no end of discomfort — mosquitoes and all, in 
Norway — for the sake of sport." Here Jerry's tail main- 
tained a regular and soothing motion. ‘‘Out here, sport 
is a mode of livelihood — that's all the difference. I can't 
see why a day after cattle should not be just as exciting as 
a day in Leicestershire. It's purely the association of ideas. 
No, hang me if it is, though," added Captain Clephane,, 
abruptly changing his tone, while Jerry's tail performed 
certain saltatory movements in the air. “ A fellow riding 
to the meet in his pink coat and immaculate tops, feeling 
his horse under him, thorough-bred stock, veins quivering, 
ready for action, does range a little higher in the scale of 
creation than the stockman whose nag has been run U23from 
the paddock by a black boy." Clephane heaved a deep 
sigh. “ How well I remember the Market Harborough 
meet, the day after the hunt ball! That was the last one I 
went to. The old-fashioned straggling village; . the hounds 
panting on the green; carriages driving up in all directions; 
Gordon Creagh piloting the Empress; all the men one 
knew, full of chaff about the night before; the huntsman 
touching his cap; the master as keen as a fox; the pretty 
fresh-faced women with their Wolmerhausen habits and 
breast- knots of violets. I can hear now the clink-clink of 
the horses' hoofs, and smell the fresh wintery smell! Then 
the stream up to the covert-side, where the hounds are 
opening; the sun shining out suddenly upon the pink coats, 
the canter across a furrowed field, the view-halloo! ‘ He's 


THE HEAD STATION. 49 

off/ and the wild dash over the grass fields. Isabel, what^s 
the matter.? Aren^t you asleep yet?'’^ 

“ ]^o, Uncle Jack; I^m laughing. There’s such a marked 
contrast between the beginning of your tirade and the end. 
How about the hollow pleasures of an effete civilization and 
the glorious freedom of Australian life? I’m awake, and I 
want a map of the country.” 

‘‘ Easily given. Since we left Leichardt’s Town this 
morning we have been traveling southward. In a few 
• hours we shall be in the Eura Eiver district; the capital, 
the milling township of Wyeroo. At right angles from 
Wyeroo are Tieryboo, Uoondi, my father-in-law’s station, 
and Gundalunda, our halting-place to-morrow.” 

‘‘ Who lives at Gundalunda?” asked Isabel. 

‘'Why, it belonged to a Victorian speculator, and was 
managed by an overseer till last year, when two partners — 
bachelors — bought it. One of them, Mr. Bertram Wyatt, 
is on his way out from England; ’the other, a really good 
specimen of an Australian-born youth — handsome, honest, 
manly, and fairly cultivated — will probably meet us at his 
own slip-rails to-morrow morning.” 

“ What is his name?” 

“ James Ferguson; but don’t indulge in any romantic 
speculations, for he is very much in love with my sister-in- 
law, Gretta Reay.” 

“ Ah, tell me about the Reays, Uncle Jack; and, first of 
all, what is the connection between Mr. Reay’s animosity 
to railways and your order from the Minister for Works?” 

“ Oh, he is rather a power after his fashion. The Gov- 
ernment are afraid of him because, though he hardly opens 
his lips in private, he is great at stonewalling tactics and 
can talk against time by the hour. He is a queer sort of 
fellow is Duncan Reay — a man of convictions which are 
invariably antagonistic to his private interests — a sort of 
Brutus who would deliver up his own son to the execu- 
tioner. He was in the ministry, but split with his col- 
leagues upon the question of railway extensions, upon 
which, as you have heard, he entertained the same* views 
as our friend Beamish. Old Reay joined the opposition, 
carried through a dead-lock successfully. The business of 
the country was at a stand- still; no supplies could be voted. 
The navvies got up a rebellion, and the civil servants sent 
him a deputation. However, he carried his point, stopped 


50 THE HEAT) STATION. 

tlie branch line to Wyeroo, which would have considerably 
increased the value of his own property; then retired, like 
Cincinnatus, to his plow. Of late he has been maintaining 
a dignified neutrality. Colonial politics, my dear Isabel, 
usually consists of two interests. The ^ bloated squattoc- 
racy ^ represents Australian Conservatism. Just now, the 
situation is serious — the Government is making a last 
struggle. Very shortly there will be loaves and fishes for 
distribution. Mollie is hoping to see her father Minister 
for Works, and old Duncan is waiting in suppressed excite- 
ment for his countiy to demand his services. 

“ And his daughters? I am longing to see them.^^ 

‘‘Hester Murgatroyd, the eldest, made an unfortunate 
marriage; we never talk about it. Her husband has been 
in prison for the last ten years, and was let out some 
months ago. Next comes my Mollie, and then, several 
years lower down, Gretta, who matches James Ferguson as 
a genuine Australian product — most tyrannously pretty, 
and as little spoiled as human nature will permit, for she 
has always a string of admirers in tow to whom she makes 
herself impartially agreeable — a perfect type of the colo- 
nial belle — no pressure of conventionality to keep down the 
natural woman — no chaperonage forced upon her — quite 
capable of taking care of herself and aware of her own 
value, but as unaffected as a young lubra. She rode forty 
miles, to our second chief town, for a ball not long ago, 
having made her own dress and carried it in her swag; was 
the belle, of course, receiving with great equanimity the 
attentions of a certain young sprig of royalty on a tour of 
the world, in whose honor the entertainment had been 
given. The next day she rode home to set her milk and 
churn the butter. The servants had taken French leave in 
her absence, and Gretta buckled to and did all the cooking 
for a week. Well, you will be able to make your own ob 
servations shortly. We are all located at Doondi till after 
Christmas; but you must curb your impatience, for father- 
in-law and I have a little trip to make on business, and we 
shall leave you for a day or two at Gundalunda, under 
charge of Mrs. Blaize.'’^ 

And Mrs. Blai^e?^^ 

“Is J ames Ferguson’s poor relation and housekeeper, a 
worthy soul, who tries to convert the blacks, and is the 
best hand at spicing rounds that I know. Mr. Blaize is 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


51 


store-keeper, carpenter, general in-doors factotum. I dare- 
say that he earns his grub, but I doubt whether Ferguson 
considers the question. Mrs. Blaize^s first husband was 
brother to the late Mrs. Reay. This establishes a sort of 
link between Doondi, Tieryboo, and Gundalunda; but the 
worst of the connection is that there ^s a brother-in-law, a 
certain Mr. Gustavus Blaize, Inspector of Public . W orks on 
the Eura, who is of an amorous tendency, and has a 
weakness for ladies^ society and for long quotations, and is 
generally voted a most unmitigated bore. Now, Isabel, if 
you are not drowsy, I am : and we are getting out of mos- 
quito land at last."’-’ 


CHAPTER YIII. 

ISABEL^ S DEEAM. 

Captain Clephane stretched himself upon the opposite 
seat, and was soon dreaming of Jjeicestershire fields and 
London drawing-rooms; but Isabel Gauntlett lay still, 
wide-eyed, her mind a chaos of vague regret over the pasG 
wonder at the present, and eager anticipation of the future. 

She felt physically weary, hut her nerves were qui veering 
with excitement and new-born energy. The lethargy which 
for months had stified all youthful exuberance of spirits 
seemed now to have melted away like a cloud. 

She was very young, scarcely more than twenty-one, yet 
a little while ago she had been face to face with death, and 
during her slow convalescence had almost persuaded herself 
that to be taken away would be the better part. But that 
mood had been horn of sickness. Mhat girl, however cir- 
cumscribed her lot, wishes to die while the blood runs lusti- 
ly in her veins? 

Now, in this soft southern night, laden with aromatic 
fragrance, and filled with the murmur of hidden life, as 
she was whirled on through regions unknown, and suggest- 
ive of the wild and unexpected, Isabel Gauntlett felt her 
being revivified ; and her heart panted with the longing of 
a girl who sees for the first time opening before her the 
world of romance and destiny. 

She had led the chrysalis existence of an orphan, brought 
up under the roof of a half-sister, much older than herself, 
moving in the groove of respectable Philistinism, well- 


52 


THE HEAD STATION. 


married, and childless. Her surroundings had been' those 
of a Devonshire manor-house, whose mistress was the lay 
rector and Lady Bountiful of the village, and she herself 
the lady^s curate and aid-de-camp. Twice a year she had 
been taken to London to see the exhibitions and replenish 
her wardrobe, and she had visited at one or two country- 
houses. There her horizon closed. 

She had been trained in a manner at which no one could 
have caviled. Lady Hetherington, in offering her sister a 
home, had determined to do her duty to the uttermost. She 
could not be expected to feel any absorbing affection for the 
child of a young and pretty step-mother, by whom she had 
been ousted from the command of her father’s house; but 
when at twelve years old the little girl was left an orphan 
with a fortune of which the interest would barely suffice for 
the allowance of a young lady supposed to dress fashionably 
and to mix in county society. Lady Hetherington gener- 
ously volunteered to defray educational expenses; and, as 
she was a woman with the strictest sense of duty, it is need- 
less to say that, according to her lights, she fulfilled her 
obligations. Isabel had the best and most prosaic of govern- 
esses. Her intelligence was driven at a steady jog along the 
conventional path of feminine learning; and if her imagi- 
nation sighed after bolder tracks or flowery meads, it was 
at least docile and answered to the bit. 

Lady Hetherington intended that her sister should marry 
satisfactorily, and was disappointed when at nineteen Isa- 
bel’s lungs were pronounced delicate, and she was debarred 
from even the Exeter ball. Lady Hetherington did not ap- 
prove of Plymouth as a scene of mild dissipation, for it was 
a garrison town, and likely to harbor detrimentals. An 
unusually severe winter brought on a serious attack, and 
the London faculty declared that to restore the young girl 
to health it wa^ absolutely necessary that she should spend 
a year in a warm climate. Lady Hetherington tvas per- 
plexed. It was impossible that Isabel should go alone to 
Madeira or the South of France. Both she and Sir Richard 
had a horror of living abroad. He would not give up his 
shooting; he was master of the hounds; and then, without 
her, what would become of Heatherleigh? Besides, these 
would be but half measures. The doctors had advised a 
voyage across the equator. In her difficulty she bethought 
her of Jack Olephane, Isabel’s maternal uncle, who had 


THE HEAD STATION. 


53 


emigrated to Australia ten years before, when he had found 
it impossible to balance income and expenditure in Eng- 
land, had married there, and was at this crisis obviously 
his niece's best protector. To his care, therefore, Isabel 
was consigned. She acquiesced listlessly in the arrange- 
ment. Tiiere were no sharp heart-wrenches, only a placid 
resignation which softened the shock of separation. Never- 
theless at parting she clung to Lady Hetherington, and im- 
plored that she might be allowed to remain and die at home. 
But strength revived, and during the long days of dreamy 
convalescence at sea, her soul wandered back from the 
shadowy borders. Her imagination took wings and soared; 
and this new world to which she had come — this world of 
strange never-ending forest, teeming with new life and un- 
familiar sounds, lighted by unknown stars, which were as 
jewels in God's coronal — seemed the materialization of 
those realms of fantasy in which during her illness her 
mind had roamed. 

The night wore away. The murmur of insects was 
hushed, and the dingoes' doleful howl and curlews' plaint- 
ive crying ceased. The train glided on through an inter- 
minable aisle of gaunt trees, their foliage silver-white with 
dew. Isabel's eyes closed; she slept and dreamed — one of 
those curious vivid dreams which visit -us when the brain is 
excited by new scenes. The motion rocked her gently, and 
she fancied herself in a boat floating upon the bosom of a 
broad and rapid river. She was not alone. A man was 
rowing the boat, but his back was toward her, and his face 
hidden. It seemed borne in upon her that though he was 
a stranger some inexplicable bond united them. The sun 
shone gloriously; little wavelets gleamed beneath its rays 
and leaped up joyously to kiss the drooping branches of 
crimson-blossomed trees that grew upon the banks. Isa- 
bel's bosom heaved with soft exhilaration. Oh! how beau- 
tiful life was! She felt a curious sense of expansion, of 
pure and perfect happiness, and would fain have held out 
her arms to embrace — she knew not what. Then creeping 
over her, came a vague trouble and wonder. The sky 
changed and darkened; the smiling day became gloomy 
night. Neither moon nor stars lightened the blackness. 
The river turned to an angry sea, the rising waves threat- 
ened to ingulf the boat. “ Oh, must I die!" cried Isabel 
to her dream companion; “ and may I not see your face?" 


54 


THE HEAD STATION. 


In the darkness he turned and held out his arms and she 
crept into them and was soothed. The gloom hid his feat- 
ures, but she beheld his eyes, large and sad, but full of ten- 
derness, He clasped her to his, heart, and the trouble was 
stilled. ‘‘ Is this love she asked. ‘‘Love is faith, he 
answered. She felt his kiss upon her lips, and in that thrill 
of exquisite joy she awoke. 

♦ 4c sH * * * 


CHAPTER IX. 

DROPPED AT THE SLIP-RAILS. 

Morhihg had dawned; and a pale pink glow suffused 
the eastern sky. The train was no longer in motion. An 
uncouth-looking guard standing by the door of the com- 
partment was already imceremoniously throwing on the 
way-side such small articles of luggage as cam'e to his hand. 

“ Stop, my friend!^'’ cried Captain Clephane. “ That 
dressing-bag is fitted up with silver and glass, and might be 
injured if it happened to strike against a gum-tree. Here, 
take my swag and pitch it where you choose; and there^s a 
glass of grog for your trouble, and good-day to you! Now, 
Isabel. 

The girl, flushed from the recollection of her dream, had 
risen in a dazed manner from her impromptu couch, and, 
having tied on her hat and descended from the carriage, 
gazed bewilderedly around her. Here were trees, trees, 
nothing but trees, except, indeed, a rough fence of split 
wood which lost itself among the thickening trunks. Her 
two portmanteaus lay forlornly on the grass. The train 
whizzed away, and Isabel realized that they had been 
dropped in this promiscuous fashion at the Gundalunda 
slip-rails. 

“ I thought that some of them would have been down to 
meet us,P said Clephane. “ I daresay theyTl turn up pres- 
ently. Just wait a minute, Isabel, while I drag this bag- 
gage through the fence, and then we’ll walk along that 
track to the head station. It’s no distance. ITl give a 
shout in case there’s a black boy within hail. ” 

A series of long melodious cooees echoed through the 
bush, but evoked no answering sound. While Clephane let 


THE HEAD STATION. 


55 


down the slip-rails and pulled the portmanteaus through, 
Isabel seated herself upon a fallen log and drank in the 
beauty and freshness of the early morning. A white mist 
clung to the gum-trees, silvering their dull green leaves and 
bringing out their aromatic fragrance. The grass lay low 
from its weight of dew, and the young green things looked 
grateful for the moisture, which would too soon be dried 
up. The forest was unlike any wooded ground Isabel had 
ever seen — the trees were so tall and straggling, the color- 
ing so neutral, the herbage so sparse. Here were no green 
glades or flowery dells. Upon a slight rise a little distance 
cfl, an army of curious-looking grass-trees raised aloft their 
plumy tufts and brown spears; and there, just beyond the 
paddock-fence, two or three startled kangaroos lifted their 
fawn- like heads and bounded away toward a distant ridge. 

They walked on under the dripping branches, and as 
sunrise reddened the sky, the vapors dispersed, and there 
awoke overhead a shivering twitter of little birds. Grad- 
ually the stir intensified. Cockatoos fly from bow to bow 
uttering discordant shrieks which almost drowned the mag- 
pier’s liquid note, heard at its best in the early morning. 
The black cuckoo sent forth his metallic coo-eh. The 
laughing jackasses yelled out a mocking chorus; and the 
locusts commenced their monotonous whir. 

They passed a herd of drow^^ cattle, camped beneath a 
clump of wattles; these gazed with sleepy eyes but did not 
move. How, an opossum scuttled to the shelter of a hollow 
tree, or a jew-lizard, perched upon some, withered bow, 
erected its portentous-looking ruff and hissed menacingly. 

A mile or more had been accomplished. The country 
began to look less wild. Here and there clearings had been 
made. Giant logs, covered with moss and fern, lay im- 
bedded in the grass, corpse-like, reminders to their still 
erect brethren — which, stripped of bark, stretched out 
gaunt gray arms as if imploring for grace — that they were 
awaiting a similar fate. 

In the distance, faint rings of smoke curled to the sky; a 
cluster of cottages might be seen; and, on the other side of 
a fence they were skirting, was the stock-yard, of which the 
bristling posts and log-rails rose in the center of an oasis of 
couch-grass. From a gibbet at one corner hung suspended 
the carcass of a newly slaughtered beast. Close by, two 
huge iron pots raised upon erections of rough stone looked 


5G 


THE HEAD STATION. 


like altars raised for the performance of heathen rites. The 
grinning faces, half-clad figures, and strange jabber of sev- 
eral aboriginals who plied the fire beneath, were in keeping 
with the suggestion. There was something savage and 
picturesque about the scene. A flock of crows scenting car- 
rion swirled and swooped in the air above the slain animal; 
and a crowd of curs of every description, from the sleek, 
well-bred kangaroo-hound to the hairless mongrel of the 
blacks^ camp, surrounded the place of carnage, and ap- 
peared too well engaged to pay any attention to the new 
arrivals. 

As they followed the fence to the slip-rails which gave ad- 
mittance to the inner paddock, loud shouts, cooees, and 
cracking of whips, sounded in the rear. There was a stam- 
pede of horses past the yard, manes flowing, tails flying, nos- 
trils distended. A stockman and a brace of black boys round- 
ed the mob, while following at a more leisurely pace came 
two gentlemen. Yes, they were gentlemen, decided Isabel, 
whose discernment had been quickened even during her two 
days’ residence in Australia. Though they were coatless, 
and brandished whips like the others, there was about both 
an easy air of command not to be mistaken. 

Clephane cooeed. At sight of his neighbor and the En- 
glish girl one of these riders spurred his horse to a brisk can- 
ter, and met his guests at the dividing fence. He dis- 
mounted, let down the slip-rails, and, cabbage- tree hat in 
hand, advanced toward Miss Gauntlet t. 

He looked sHy and awkward. This was hardly surjDris- 
ing, for he was overwhelmed by the sudden consciousness 
that this dainty English lady had probably never before 
been received by a host similarly garbed in dirty moleskin 
nether garments, a Crimean shirt, collarless, open at the 
neck, and stained with blood — for, had she arrived a quar- 
ter of an hour earlier, he would have been discovered in the 
act of skinning the dead bullock — with such brawny bared 
arms, and so great a deficiency in polite phrases. He fan- 
cied there was a smile upon Isabel’s lips. As a matter 
of fact she had never been remarkable for that fine percep- 
tion of contrast in which we are told lies the true sense of 
humor; but a faculty is developed with the opportunity for 
its exercise, and she was certainly amused and struck by 
the novelty of her surroundings. 


THE HEAD STATlOH. 


Hullo, old fellow said Clepliane. ‘‘Let me intro- 
duce my niece. Mr. Ferguson, Miss Gauntlett. 

The master of Gundalunda stammered out some apolo- 
gies. He thought the train must be earlier than usual. 
He had been on the point of riding down the paddock to 
meet it. 

Isabel held out her hand, but found no suitable words in 
which to acknowledge the greeting. She was shy, too, and 
also interested in examining her host. Already her imagi- 
nation had been stimulated b “ irence to the 



love affair between Ferguson 


Although 


her sensibilities were somewhat jarred by the roughness of 
his appearance, she was obliged to confess that he was a 
lover of whom any Australian maiden might justly feel 
proud — six foot two in his boots, and, unlike most colonially 
born men, muscular as a champion athlete. The red 
mounted to his brow as he caught her look, but the flush 
was not unbecoming to his bronzed face, with its honest 
gray eyes, straight features, tawny mustache, and expres- 
sion of frank determination. 

“I have been impressing upon my niece,^^ continued 
Clephane, with his rather affected banter, “ that we are 
not at all elaborate in our social arrangements hereabouts; 
and that the adjective which best describes Australian man- 
ners and customs is ‘ casual. ^ For example, when we ex- 
pect lady visitors from England, accustomed to all the lux- 
uries of European railway traveling, we donT send the 
brougham down to the station with a footman to open the 
door and a spring-cart for the imperials. We have ^em all, 
boxes and lady, dropped at the slip-rails of our paddock- 
fence. Our fair guest walks two miles over the dewy grass. 

“ Oh, come, it isnT more than a mile,^^ earnestly ex- 
claimed Ferguson; “and your sisters-in-law always say 
they like it.^^ 

“ I dare say they do, and Miss Gauntlett also. Not a 
welcome,^^ Clephane went on, tragically, “ except from 
cockatoos and bandicoots; finally she sees the most primi- 
tive and unappetizing preparations for breakfast staring her 
in the face. It^s naturalism of the purest kind, dear Fer- 
guson — too pure, even, to suit the school of Zola. We 
march with the times, you observe, Isabel; but it^s a little 
startling to the nerves of one brought up in the gilded 
haunts of civilization.'’^ 


58 


THE HEAD STATION'. 


Isabel laughed somewhat hysterically, for she was tired; 
and Mr. Ferguson rejoined, good-humoredly, not quite 
knowing how far Olephane was in jest or earnest: 

“ He never loses an opportunity of chaffing me. Miss 
Gauntlett. But I am awfully sorry that you should have 
arrived in this forlorn way. I don^t know how to apologize 
sufficiently. We can^t help being a bit rough in the bush, 
you know, and I daresay you are startled. We quite meant 
to be at the shp-rails to break things easily to you, but the 
fact is, it^s killing-morning. We'^re mustering just now; 
all the hands are busy; and a beast of a scrubber got out of 
the yard, and was over the river in no time. I^'d have let 
him go if it hadnH been for Mr. Reay, for she^s one of 
yours, Clephane^ — a poley cow, with the Tieryboo brand; 
and I must say that she doesn’t do credit to your stock- 
keeping.” 

A poley cow, branded with a star on the near shoulder?”' 
excitedly cried Olephane. God bless you, dear Ferguson, 
she’s the best-bred animal I’ve got on the run, and the 
wildest. • Send her with the tailing-mob for a bit. I’ll go 
and have a look at her. ” 

Uncle Jack,” pleaded Isabel, faintly, are my trunks 
quite safe?” 

Bless me— yes. The cattle won’t eat them, and there’s 
nobody to prig them.” 

‘‘ They shall be brought up directly. Miss Gauntlett,” 
said Ferguson. 

Another gentleman, middle-aged, long-legged, spare. 
Scotch-looking, with sandy, grayish hair, a protruding up- 
per lip, and a tendency to gesticulation, joined the group. 
He had walked from the stock-yard leading his horse, and 
now turned to the black boy, who was following him. 
‘‘ Hi, Combo, fetch ’em cart. Yan along a slip-rails. 
Bring up swag belonging to White Mary. Murra make 
haste. You’re welcome. Miss Gauntlett. You’ll be stay- 
ing at my station, Doondi, for a bit now. You’ll find the 
bush rough after England, though I’ve almost forgotten 
what that’s like, for it’s forty-two years since I left it. I 
hope the climate ’ll restore your health. You don’t look 
to me so vara delicate; but all Australian girls are pale- 
faces, and they are mostly weeds, so you’ll show fair beside 
them. You’ll be tired. Ferguson, don’t let us be standing 


THE HEAD STATION. 


59 


here. Yoiih*e wanted in the yards, and 1^1 take the young 
lady to Judith Blaize, who^s looking out for her.^'’ 

Mr. Reay jerked out his sentences with hardly a stop be- 
tween them, but each word uttered deliberately, as though 
he were giving forth a series of statements which could not 
and should not be controverted. He then took possession 
of a hand-bag Isabel carried, and, while Ferguson dii^erged 
to the stock-yard, led the way to the homestead, walking 
like a pair of compasses, so long did his legs seem in pro- 
portion to his body. There was something quite comic in 
his impulsive decisiveness, and, if the phrase may be used, 
slow impetuosity. 

Well!'' said he, and what is going to be the upshot 
of this summer session?" 

Oh, I went to the House the other night. They were 
all snarling like a pack of hungry hounds. There'll be no 
adjournment for Christmas till the bone has been picked 
olefin. The Government tried its strength and got so dis- 
comfited that the Opposition chief stopped in his triumph 
to pat poor old Mills of ‘ Works ' on the back, and tell him 
he had fought like a man. " 

Mr. Reay chuckled with a delight he tried to conceal. 

I won't go near 'em," he exclaimed. ‘‘ Catesby turned 
tail on my Railway measure, and he shall fight for his 
Polynesian Bill without my help. When they're ready to 
put me into ‘ Works,' and uphold my Railway policy. I'll 
join him — not a day sooner." 

“ Catesby is magnificent," continued Clephane, espe- 
cially after he has come back from the Parliamentary re- 
freshment bar. I must say that the rationale of winter ses- 
sions is very obvious; but is not the import duty on ‘ Jim 
Hennessy ' and Martell's ‘ Three Stars ' worth considering? 
Just think it over, Mr. Reay, in connection with the Free 
Trade question. I wish you had heard Catesby. This sort 
of thing " — and he struck and attitude and apostrophized 
the gum-trees: ‘ Fellow-countrymen, it is time to return 
to a moral, a rational, a pacific policy — not one of Interco- 
lonial jealousy and suspicion; of arrogant claims for ascend- 
ency; of bloodshed, bluster, and blow.' I assure you it 
was fine. But to drop politics, what is the news from 
Doondi?" 

Combo brought a letter from Sib this morning. Would 
ye like to hear it? That's my son, Sebastian, Miss Gaunt- 


60 


THE HEAD STATION. 


lett. Ye^ll obsairve lie does not waste words, in which re- 
spect he differs from one of his sisters. Here it is — Fll 
read it to you.'’^ 

Mr. Reay opened out a large sheet of letter-paper, in the 
center of which were two lines of writing, and read aloud — 

Deae Fathek, — AlFs well, except Billy the bull, 
which is dead of pleuro. 

‘‘ Your affectionate son, 

‘‘Sebastian Eeay."" 

“ That^s important news. Jack, for it just means a hun- 
dred pounds out of my pocket, a bother with inoculating, 
and may be a delay in sending our cattle west. Here we are 
at the house, and there '’s Judith Blaize out among her 
chickens. She^s a better hand at getting up than her hus- 
band. He^s a puir creature, and she^s clean daft about 
him; but there^'s no great harm in him; at least, I don^t 
think so. I was just watchin^ him yesterday pantin^ and 
blowin^ over a little spade fit for Jinks, and out she comes 
— ^while I was thinking, ‘ You^re a thing to ca^ yourself a 
man; and the work ye do is nae mair than a hen scrappit- 
in ‘ Ducky darlin^ now,^ she says, ‘ the sun is hot, and 
ye mustn^t work so hard; and now do-ant ye overtire your- 
self, ducky darlin^.^"’ And stopping short, and waving one 
arm in a burst of energy, he exclaimed, “ If I was James 
Ferguson, by the Lord, I^d ducky darlin^ him! But she is 
a good soul is Judith Blaize. 


CHAPTER X. 

GUNDALUNDA. 

Gundalunda head-station was a queer dilapidated cluster 
of huts perched upon the slope of a gentle rise, from which 
might be seen a glorious expanse of rolling downs timb.ered 
with lightwood and iron-bark trees, and with a fine of blue 
mountains showing in the distance. The principal building 
was of slab, roofed with sheets of bark fastened down by 
transversely placed saplings. Passion-fruit and vines closed 
in the veranda, which, less tasteful than that at Doondi, 
where the stands of plants were the joint care of Hester 
Murgatroyd and the Kanaka, was filled with squatters' 


THE HEAD STATION. 


61 


chairs and hammocks, while a canvas water-bucket dripped 
from the ceiling, and the wall was hung with stoek-whfps, 
spurs, and bridles. To the right of this building were two 
or three other tumble-down huts, presumably kitchen and 
outhouses; and to the left a trimmer cottage, the veranda 
of which gave indications of feminine occupation in the 
shape of a sewing-machine, and a basket full of unmade 
garments. A black gin leaned against one of the posts hold- 
ing a pickaninny, smoking a short pipe, and spasmodically 
shredding the husks from a bundle of Indian corn. She 
was dressed in the discarded skirt of a white woman, fast- 
ened over one shoulder and under the other, leaving her 
lean arms classically bare. A crimson kerchief bound her 
woolly hair, and stuck in it were another pipe and half a 
fig of tobacco. A tame cockatoo superintended operations. 
Tuning backward and forward between the ledge and the 
garden. 

In this garden, fruit-trees, shrubs, flowers, and vegetables 
grew at random — cabbages side by side with brilliant exotic 
creepers, a trellis of vines sheltering a patch of mignonette. . 
Here a bank of late purple irises, and there a gloire de 
Dijon rose. strewing its creamy petals over a bed of arti- 
chokes. 

As Mr. Eeay opened the gate, the black gin set up a 
shrill jabber of salutation. Yah, yah, wurra yee. Hi, 
Muss us. Budgery White Mary. My word cobbon budgery 
that fellow."’^ The cockatoo shrieked, ‘‘Who are you? 
what^s your name? The top of the morning to ye. Got a 
kiss for Polly while a stout lady, in a mushroom hat 
and lavender print-gown, who outside the garden-palings 
was scattering corn among a flock of roosters, turned and 
flew forward with a flutter and waddling movement not un- 
like the mode of progression of one of her own ducks. She 
was comely and f resh-complexioned, with aquiline features, 
blonde ringlets, and an expression of good-humored vivacity. 

“ Dear heart cried she, with a sprightly elevation of 
her eyebrows and innocent smile which corresponded with 
her child-like blue eyes, “ I thought there^d have been a 
greater flourish of trumpets over your arrival. Miss Gaunt- 
lett, and you all the way from England, too! ITl be bound 
if ‘one of the Wyeroo miners^ wives had come to pay us a 
visit sheM have made herself heard half a mile off. And 
now tell me, what do ye think of Australia?^^ 


62 


THE HEAD STATION. 


Mrs. Blaize had. a habit of putting comprehensive ques- 
tions. Happily she never required an answer. 

‘‘ Shell be in a better position to state her opinion, Ju- 
dith, when you have taken her in and given her some tea,'’^ 
said Mr. Reay. “ She has been traveling all night, and 
that isn^’t agreeable — at least I do-an^t think so. If she 
slept it^s more than I could do, supposing that my princi- 
ples would permit me to make use of what I consider the 
ruination of the country. 

“ Dear heart, Duncan,-’^ said Mrs. Blaize, sweetly, ‘‘1 
canl think how it is, but you do remind me of an old uncle 
of mine who had softening of the brain when I was a girl, 
and who always fancied that he saw the Dardanelles out of 
his study-window. And when we ventured to suggest that 
the Dardanelles was in Turkey all he woidd answer was, 
‘The world is very censorious."’ I suppose it is because 
you are so set against the railways; and I dare say you are 
right. But I must say that I think they are a great con- 
venience in the way of fetching up stores. I mind the time 
when we were three months at Oreti Downs without flour 
and the bullock-drays stopped by flooded crefeks! The tea 
is ready, and there are some beautiful scones fresh out of 
the oven. My old man is not very well this morning — a 
touch of lumbago from stooping over his gardenings; but 
youTl find everything you want. Captain Clephane, in Mr. 
Ferguson ^s room.^^ 

“ And now, my dear,^^ she exclaimed, when she had con- 
voyed Isabel to a white boarded chamber, the drapery of 
which was spotless, and the window-frame wreathed by a 
long lilac thumbergia, and had with her own hands placed 
fragrant tea and steaming cakes before her guest, “ youTl 
let me kiss you, wonT you? I am aunt to 3 "Our uncle’s 
wife, so that you have a right to a corner of my heart. 
There’s no one to oust you out of it. Those I love are 
sweet to me as spring flowers. Hester Murgatroyd puts 
me in mind of one of those limp creamy roses that never 
opens out its scented heart. Gretta is just a spray of wat- 
tle, a blossom of the Australian woods; but you I can liken 
only to a pale English snow-drop. Though I married when 
I was seventeen and went to live on Oreti Downs — where 
blacks, blight, and the scab among our sheep turned me into 
a hag before my time — I’ve many tender thoughts about 
my native land. By and by I’ll tell you a few of my ex- 


THE hp:ad station. 


63 


periences; and if the bush seems to you a little rough in 
these days you^ll just compare it with the past and be thank- 

‘‘ I assure you/'’ protested Isabel; but Mrs. Blaize did 
not allow her to proceed. 

“ You^’ll just be prepared to find us a dull, uncultivated 
set,’’ she continued, dolefully shaking her head. “ If any 
one should have an advantage it’s myself, for I have been 
fortunate enough to marry a man who doesn’t own many 
intellectual superiors. Not but what intellect has its draw- 
backs as you’ll perhaps admit when you are introduced to 
my husband’s brother; but he is just an example of sound- 
ing brass and tinkling cymbals, whereas my Mr. Blaize, 
being of a receptive nature, is slow to speech and full of 
wisdom. Now, tell me before I go, what do ye think of 
Australia?” 

“ Indeed, Mrs. Blaize,” said Isabel, ‘‘ if every one is as 
kind to me as the people I have already met, I shall never 
have a word to say against it; and, as for the bush, I think 
it perfectly delightful.” 

A great hell clanged in the larger house, and outside 
there was a sound of voices and of dogs barking. 

‘‘ They are bringing down the meat,” said Mrs. Blaize; 
‘‘ and I must go and pick out the best rounds for spicing. 
Ah, my dear, you’ll find it true enough that the practica- 
bilities of Australian life nip the fragile buds of fancy be- 
fore they have time to bloom. Since you really will not go 
to bed. I’ll send your uncle for you when breakfast is ready, 
and he’ll take you over to Mr. Ferguson’s house. ” 

Go to bed! upon that glorious summer morning, with a 
world full of wonders opening before her, and with that de- 
licious feeling of new life and energy expanding her being ! 
Isabel felt still a little bewildered, for a vision of the prim, 
well-ordered Heatherleigh household would keep obtruding 
itself before her imagination; nothing could be less in har- 
mony with the free-and-easy arrangements at Gundalunda. 
She seemed to have been suddenly launched upon a voyage 
of discovery among people who thought, acted, and spoke 
differently from any other she had ever met. 

When she was dressed, she seated herself by the window, 
which commanded a view of the paddock, and of a wider 
road than that which had brought her to the station. This 
was evidently the approach from the Wyeroo sid^<^already 


64 


THE HEAD STATION. 


she had learned something of the topography of the Eura 
district. Along this road an excitable young man was just 
now riding toward the head-station. As he neared the pad- 
dock-fence he waved his hat and uttered an Irish yell, which 
set the curs barking and brought forth all the gins and pick- 
aninnies from the blacks^ camp on the other side of the slip- 
rails. The young man leaned over from his saddle, pitched 
something into the camp, for which warriors, gins, and pick- 
aninnies played a game at grab, and indulged in some un- 
disting uishable witticisms, whereat there were yeUs of ab- 
original laughter and a gabbling chorus of gibberish. It 
was a pretty little Australian scene. The sun slanting 
through the tall gum-trees, the intensely blue sky overhead, 
smoke curling up from the gunyas, behind them the brill- 
iant green of a paddock of young Indian corn, the swarth}^ 
forms of the blacks coiled upon their red blankets and 
opossum-rugs, the bits of crimson with which the women 
had adorned themselves, and the naked figures of the 
pickaninnies dancing round the fire in imp-like glee. 

Isabel watched the young man ride round to the garden- 
fence, there unsaddle his horse, dash a bucket of cold water 
over the animars back, turn liim loose into the paddock, 
'and deposit his saddle and bridle upon the edge of the 
veranda. At that moment the bell pealed again, and Cap- 
tain Olephane^s voice sounded at his niece^s door. 

Young Ferguson — fresh from his morning swim in the 
oreek, with his straight features, his column-like throat, 
and the close tendrils of light hair fringing his forehead, 
the only portion of his face not copper-color — looked like 
the modern embodiment of some Greek demi-god resusci- 
tated from the limbo of dead-and-goiie mythology, and 
transplanted from classical regions to an Arcadia unconse- 
crated by tradition. He had removed all traces of stock- 
yard labor, and his spotless riding-breeches, blue-striped 
shirt, and light alpaca coat left nothing to be desired in the 
matter of costume. He held in liis hand a half-blown 
rose; and, as Isabel Gauntlett entered, placed it beside her 
plate with an entire absence of self-consciousness, which 
rendered the act of gallantry less a tribute to the iiidividual 
than a token of the homage so readily accorded • by the 
typical Australian to a refined woman. 

Underlying the rough-and-ready manners, and the 
prosaic routine of bush-life, there is an old-world chivalry. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


65 


a reverence for women, a purity of thought, a delicacy of 
sentiment, not always to be found in what Clephane called 
“ the gilded haunts of civilization. This is partly due to 
the breezy moral atmosphere, and partly to the influence of 
books, which become living realities, in the solitude and 
monotony of existence among the gum-trees. The typical 
Australian is an odd combination of the practical and the 
ideal. He is like a student who learns to read to himself a 
foreign language, but does not attain to its pronunciation. 
He has no knowledge of current jargon or society slang. 
He has unconsciously rejected vulgarisms and shallow con- 
ceits; but all the deeper thoughts — the poetry of life which 
appeals to the soul — he has made his own. 


CHAPTER XL 

THE FIEST DAY IH THE BUSH. 

XoT that the conversation this morning gave evidence of 
either culture or romance. 

Mrs. Blaize, presiding over the tea-pot, was impressing 
upon Mr. Ferguson the necessity for re-enforcing the herd of 
milkers. Mr. Reay, attacking his breakfast with the spas- 
modic solemnity which marked hi§ speech and movements, 
was discussing the desirability of choosing, from the past- 
ures of one Nash, a neighboring squatter, a successor to 
Billy the bull, deceased; and the young Irishman, intro- 
duced as Mr. Patrick Desmond, announced that he had not 
washed out gold enough that week to pay for his grub, and 
was thinking of turning drover again if he could get a job. 

Said Mr. Reay, looking up suddenly from his plate. 

Well, you can ride over to Doondi if you like, Desmond. 
WeTe sending our mob north-west in about three weeks^ 
time; and, if you hear of another good hand with cattle, I 
donT mind letting him tail the weaners for a bit to see how 
he shapes.^'’ 

“ Sure, an^ I’m your man,” said Pat Desmond, with 
alacrity.; “ and I know a first-rate chap who was overland- 
ing for Fyson in New South Wales, and turned up at 
Wyeroo with his swag and five shillings in his pocket; and 
that was all he had in the world, barring his revolver; and 
for why? but that thief, old Fyson, had gone smash and 


66 


THE HEAD STATION. 


never paid him a penny. He took a billet in the Great 
Phoenix^ and is about as sick of the diggings as I am. 
Anyhow, Mr. Ferguson, I^ve sent my mate to 2:)rospect for 
a new claim, and ifc^s after lending a hand at the mustering 
that I’ll be if you v^ant me, and if you don’t. I’ll be glad 
of a spell.” 

‘‘ Spell as long as you like, Pat,” said Ferguson. ‘‘ I’ve 
got to camp on the other side of the run. I’m sorry to say; 
so if you’ll show Miss Gauntlett about the place, and help 
her to pass the time, I sha’n’t feel so guilty in leaving 
her. ” 

Mr. Patrick Desmond, who was a good-looking, dark- 
haired youth, with a ruddy complexion, and a twinkle in 
his blue eyes, turned to Isabel, beside whom he was seated. 
“ And isn’t it the job that suits me entirely. Miss Gaunt- 
lett? And it isn’t to a Gundalunda scrubber that I’ll be 
making my bow while I’m here. I’m a sort of cousin of 
Mrs. Blaize’s, and by that token of reasoning I’m your 
cousin too. Anyway, I’m at your orders. And how’s 
your husband, Mrs. Blaize?” . 

‘‘ Indeed, and my old man is but poorly,’^ rejoined that 
lady; and he is having his breakfast in bed. He says he 
doesn’t like it, but ye know that isn’t true; for give him a 
book and he is happy, whether he is in a horizontal position 
or a perpendicular one. The thing he doesn’t like is being 
dosed and coddled. But I tuck him up and wrap a little 
shawl round him, and he is just obliged to submit. I never 
had him in such good order, for let me assure you he is not 
a man to be dictated to by a woman.” She heaved a deep 
sigh, and taking advantage of the pause Mr. Pat Desmond 
broke in. It seemed to Isabel that almost everybody at 
Gundalunda was fond of hearing the sound of his or her 
own voice, and that the stranger within their gates— or 
rather their slip-rails — was under no obligations to be 
politely garrulous. 

“I say, Mr. Ferguson, there’s one thing that Miss 
Gauntlett ought to do. We must drive her over to Wyeroo 
in iligant style, and take her down the Great Phoenix. ” 

But Mrs. Blaize’s tongue, once set in motion, was not to 
be lightly checked. 

“ There’s disappointments in all earthly plans. Miss 
Gauntlett,” she said. ‘‘ My husband was formerly a clergy- 
man; and if it hadn’t been for his love of reading he’d 


THE HEAD STATION. 


67 


have remained a respected minister of the Gospel, instead 
of being what he is. If you ever think of settling in Aus- 
tralia, don^’t marry a parson, or, if ye do, keep atheistical 
books out of his reach, for they’ll just thrust you out of a 
comfortable cure of souls and lead ye a dance up into the 
Kever Never country, where but for James Ferguson’s 
kindness we should be now.” Mrs. Blaize uttered the 
above in a rapid and tragic aside, keeping one eye shut 
while she talked. ‘‘Here’s my brother-in-law!” she add- 
ed; “I call him ‘ Old Gold,’ because he is so yellow. Pat, 
we’re just snuffed out by these intellectual people. Move a 
little closer to me. Well, Gustav us, and how did you sleep 
last night?” 

Mr. Gustavus Blaize was lean, shriveled, and dyspeptic- 
looking. His face resembled that of a mummy animated 
by a pair of bilious eyes, which nevertheless glowed at times 
with the ardor peculiar to impressionable and enthusiastic 
dispositions. They rested admiringly upon Isabel, in whose 
direction he executed an elaborate bow. He had an alert 
way of jerking up his chin, and spoke in high-pitched mel- 
ancholy tones. 

“ But passably, thank you. Sister Judith. My enemy re- 
turned at four o’clock this morning ” — he laid his hand 
pathetically upon the lower portion of his waistcoat. 
(“ It’s the coats of the stomach,” explained Mrs. Blaize, in 
parenthesis.) “But I kept him at bay by swallowing 
draughts of scalding tea; and, as I sat groaning at my win- 
dow, my pain was alleviated by the sight of Miss Gaunt- 
let t ” — another bow — “appearing like Aurora with the 
dawn. ” 

“ Old fool!” observed Mrs. Blaize, in an audible sotto 
voce, “ The sun was well up when you arrived. He’s at 
his favorite game, Pat; and if Miss Gauntlett stays here a 
week he’ll be making her an offer of marriage. You need 
not look so embarrassed, my dear — he is very deaf and can’t 
hear a word I say; but he wouldn’t acknowledge it for the 
world. Don’t encourage him — a lean, dilapidated broom- 
handle with a lump of brains at the top. I’m not denying 
that he has talent; it runs in the family. But Gustavus is 
not to be compared to my husband, who is just a very re- 
markable man.” 

The men of business at the other end of the table rose. 
They had paid but little attention to the more frivolous 


68 


THE HEAD STATION". 


chatter, having been too much absorbed in a discussion con- 
cerning the poley cow aforementioned. Mr. Ferguson 
came round and shook hands with Isabel. 

“ Miss Gauntlet t, I am ashamed of having talked shop 
before you. We generally make a point of keeping cattle 
in the background when ladies are present; but just now I 
am finishing up my mustering, and have to start ofi for the 
other side of the run. I must say good-bye, for I’m afraid 
my calves won^t get branded while I do the honors of the 
station. I shall place you in charge of Mr. Gustavus Blaize 
and Pat Desmond, who have only to consider how to amuse 
you.” 

He hurried off. 

“ Miss Gauntlett,’^ cried Pat, “ isn^t it a gold mine, now, 
that it’ll please you to see? We’ll spin you over to Wyeroo 
in no time at all. ” 

“ Let me recommend for to-day a hammock slung in 
some sequestered corner of the veranda,” said Mr. Gustavus 
Blaize, magniloquently, ‘‘ so that the soul may revel in 
dreamy sympathy with Nature, and the sensitive ear attune 
itself to new harmonies. But Miss Gauntlett has but to 
express a wish, and her faithful servants will endeavor to 
gratify it.” 

Uncle Jack,” exclaimed the young girl, ‘‘ why didn’t 
you prepare me for this sort of enchantment? Are there 
any more slaves of the ring?” 

Yes; I shall leave Combo at your disposal, and I should 
not be surprised if King Comongin turned up in all his war- 
paint to do homage to you as the representative of ‘ big fel- 
low white Mary a long a water, ’ otherwise Her Gracious 
Majesty.” , 

“ Who is King Comongin?” 

“ Mr. Eeay’s henchman, sheltered by him from the arm 
of the law. By the way,” added Captain Clephane, turn- 
ing to his father-in-law, there’s no doubt that Comongin 
was the murderer of .Royds. Hill, of the native police, says 
he knows it as a fact, and will send you the papers which 
prove it. You’ll have to turn him off Doondi.” 

Mr. Reay’s upper lip went down. 

‘‘I’ve said he should go if it was proved that he speared 
Royds; but I kept out of the way of asking questions. 
Comongin has had his grub from me for five years, and his 
tribe have never done me a hand’s-turn of mischief. It’s 


THE HEAD STATION. 


69 


my opinion that if the blacks are treated fairly they^ll treat 
you likewise. Come along, Olephane. There^s Combo 
with the horses. We had better be starting for Nash ^s. 
You^ll keep an eye on that drover, Desmond. It’s surpris- 
ing what good men one sometimes picks up at the dig- 
gings."" 

‘‘ Ah,"" said Mrs. Blaize, shaking her head sympathetic- 
ally, ‘‘ there"s many a gentleman"s son at Wyeroo that has 
no business to be in such company — honorables and esquires 
are as thick as cedar-berries. I"d like to start a reforma- 
tory for all the ne"er-do-weels in Australia."" 

“ You"d have your hands full, Judith,"" retorted Mr. 
Eeay, grimly. ‘‘ Better restrict yourself to the conversion 
of the blacks. And how is it that you find yourself at 
liberty, Mr. Gustavus Blaize.? I thought you were due at 
Preston this week."" 

Sure!"" answered Mr. Desmond, “ and will not Mr. 
Gusfcavus be too valuable a servant to the country for him 
to be let run into danger? Haven "t you heard the news, 
Mr. Reay? There "s one of the New South Wales bush- 
rangers that has crossed the border, and was after sticking 
up the Preston mail a few days ago. A digger I was speak- 
ing to told me he"d fallen in with him, and that he is a 
daring fellow, and will be after taking Ned Kelly as his 
model. There"ll be a ruction on the Eura one of these 
days; and "deed then Mr. Gustavus had better write to the 
colonial secretary, and ask for an escort of mounted 
police. "" 

Whereupon there were expressions of incredulity and 
some mild banter. The party dispersed. Mr. Reay and 
Captain Clephane cantered down the paddock, and from 
the veranda, James Eerguson, at the head of a retinue of 
stockmen, black boys, and dogs, might be seen jogging across 
the plain; the white shirts of the men, the gaudy handker- 
chiefs which girt the waists of the black boys, and the roll 
of crimson blankets strapped to each saddle-bow, making 
vivid patches among the lines of tree-stems. 

Mrs. Blaize departed, intent upon household cares, g-nd 
the three remaining betook themselves to a bowery corner 
of the veranda, where the vine-leaves cast quiveting shadows 
upon the boards, and purpling grapes hung temptingly, 
where bright-eyed lizards darted in and out of the crevices, 
and tiny birds fiew out from their nests under the bark 


70 


THE HEAD STATIOJ^". 


eaves; while innumerable insects kept up a pleasant buzz, 
and a light breeze swept in from the garden, laden with rich 
perfumes. Isabel lay back in a squatter ^s chair, and yielded 
herself to the sense of dreamy enjoyment which crept over 
her. 

“ And if Mr. Durnford was here, heM be after writing a 
poem on you,^^ said young Desmond, gazing at her with 
frank admiration as he leaned against a veranda-post op- 
posite. “ You wouldn’t think it, perhaps. Miss Gauntlett, 
but it’s a sentimental kind of chap that I am, and I am 
fond of poetry. Durnford ’s things give me a creepy feel- 
ing down the spine. ’Deed and it’s a queer feeling, and 
nothing else has ever given it to me, barring Miss Gretta 
Eeay’s singing. That’s because his poetry has the true 
Australian ring, I suppose. It’s like summer nights, with 
the stars shining over the mountains, and the lilies asleep 
on the lagoon, and all the wild sounds turned into music. 
It would be like Miss Gretta av it wasn’t that she is like no 
one but just herself. And I had better ihake a clean breast 
of it. Miss Gauntlett, and tell you at once I have been in 
love with her.«” 

“ You have been in love, with Miss Keay, Mr. Desmond?” 
repeated Isabel. 

‘‘ ’Deed, then, that’s all over. It’s Jinks now that is 
queen of my soul. It wouldn’t be for myself to run in the 
same race with Mr. Ferguson. Besides, I haven’t any busi- 
ness to be falling love. I’m only a poor beggar of a new 
chum with an allowance of £80 a year, bad luck to it. But 
sure and I’m always after the same old game. I’m as bad 
as Gustavus Blaize, that has asked every girl in the district 
to marry him. Now don’t you be making a handle of 
that against me. Miss Gauntlett, and I’ll tell you what — I’ll 
promise not to get spoony on you if you’ll consent to be my 
friend. Will you now?” 

“ Willingly,” answered Isabel, laughing, to avoid the 
alternative. ’ ’ 

Pat Desmond laughed too. ‘‘ All right, Mr. Blaize,” to 
that gentleman, who approached from the inner room with 
a book in his hand. “ Fire away! What have vou erot 
there?” ' ^ 

“ If you’ll permit me. Miss Gauntlett, I’ll read you some- 
thing of Durnford ’s.” 

I should like it very much, Mr, BlaizQ,” 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


71 


Mr. Blaize turned over the leaves of his book, eying 
Isabel sentimentally at the same time. 

“ You come from Devonshire, Miss Gauntlett?” 

“ Yes,^^ returned Isabel. 

“ It is a beautiful country, said Mr. Blaize. During 
my last visit in England I spent some days with a friend in, 
I believe, your neighborhood. Devonsliire is famous — 

“For apples and cider, put in Pat. 

“ For the beauty of its women, ^ ^ gallantly remarked Mr. 
Blaize. “ I believe that I heard your brother-in-law's 
name in connection with the fox-hounds. " 

“ He's the master," said Isabel. “ He likes hunting 
and shooting." 

“John Bull all out," put in Pat. “ But fire off, Mr. 
Blaize." 

“You have heard of Mr. Durnford, our Eura poet. Miss 
Gauntlett?" saidGustavus. 

“Ho," said Isabel: “ only what Mr. Desmond has iust 
told me." 

“ He is tutor to the young Eeays; but I rejoice to learn 
that his genius will find play in a wider arena. In confi- 
dence, it was through my representation that he was offered 
the sub-editorship of the ‘ Leichardt Lands Review.' This 
is a paper to which I occasionally contribute, for I consider 
it a duty to elevate as far as possible the literary tone of the 
Australian colonies. " 

“ Hear the ould fool, now!" murmured Pat. 

In fact I am one of the proprietors of the ‘ Review,' " 
continued Mr. Blaize, magnificently. “ This book was 
published in Melbourne anonymously a year ago. It made 
a stir. I read it, and admired it. Several coincidences 
struck me. After a time I became convinced that it could- 
only have been written by some one living on the Eura. 
My susj)icions pointed to the right man, and I made known 
my discovery in the pages of ^ The Review.' Mr. Durnford 
resented what he was pleased to term my interference. I, 
on the contrary, consider that I have rendered a service to 
society and to literature. A mystery is a wrong to the 
community; when I scent one I feel it my duty to une£irth 
it. Don't you agree with me. Miss Gauntlett?" 

“Ho, Mr. Blaize," warmly retorted Isabel; “I should 
not like to look upon myself as a social detective. But 


72 


THE HEAT) STATIOK. 


then, I^m a woman, and one doesn^t want to argue about 
moral questions on a day like this. Please begin reading."’^ 
Mr. Gustavus turned over the pages and cleared his 
throat. ‘‘ In this poem,^' said he, by way of prologue, 
“ Australian nature is depicted under the guise of a woman. 
She is vaguely discontented with her own savage beauty. 
She has a dim perception of something higher. There is 
within her bosom a warring of the earthly and the spiritual. 
Her half voluptuous yearning toward the genius of art in 
the form of a star draws toward her the star spirit. She 
worships him at first in senuous ecstasy, at last with the 
pure adoration of an awakened soul. All this is set forth 
in the passionate language of one who, if he has not loved, 
at least dreams vividly of love.'’^ 

Mr. Gustavus Blaize’s sullen face became for the mo- 
ment transfigured by the influence of reflex emotion. His 
really fine eyes glowed, and his voice vibrated with an en- 
thusiasm which was in the present instance unaffected. He 
read well, and delighted in exhibiting the accomplishment; 
it would have rendered a young Adonis irresistible. 


CHAPTER XH. 

MRS. BLAIZE^S REMIHISCEHCES. 

Patrick Desmond was right. Durnford^s poem had 
the true Australian flavor. These wild, ardent notes rang 
in unison with the rushing of flooded rivers, the sigh- 
ing of sheoaks, the plaintive wailing of curlews, and 
with the weird cries which haunt the Australian bush. 
They suggested moonlit mountain -peaks, measureless ex- 
panse of plain and forest, and gleaming southern skies. 
They had never been struck in harmony with the twit- 
tering of sparrows, the trilling of nightingales, or the 
murmur of a gentle breeze rustling through the foliage of 
spring-clad woods. There was nothing in them of green 
fields, yellowing com, garden-like landscape. They de- 
scribed Australia — and Australia only. 

In , this speciality of the source of inspiration, and in a 
certain transcendental passion, which seemed to oscillate 
between earth and heaven — sometimes sensuous and some- 
times spiritual — lay the peculiar fascination of the poem. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


73 


In other respects its originality was of the stereotyped kind. 
There was the note of rebellion against accepted beliefs in 
religion and morals; the pagan worship of form; the ring 
of Comtism; the almost exaggerated adoration of woman, 
which is associated with the modern “ cult.^^ It might be 
doubted whether Mr. Durnford possessed that large-souled 
enthusiasm which makes the undying poet. But, if his 
capacity for passion were restricted to one phase, that was 
at least vividly expressed. 

“ Very good, very good!^^ bleated a melancholy voice in 
the garden. “You read well, Gustavus. I remember the 
time when you thought of going in for parlor recitation. I 
always think myself, that to recite well is an enviable ac- 
complishment. 

A copy-book platitude was Mr. Blaize^s invariable anti- 
climax. He smiled as though he had made a profound 
statement. Isabel looked up. She saw a little wizened 
figure, with a massive head, contemplative eyes, a meek 
mouth, and soft gray hair. Mr. Blaize looked very old — 
considerably older than his brother, whom he resembled — 
but the face was sadder, less acrid, and not so alert as that 
of the Government Inspector. . 

With one hand he supported a large green umbrella, cov- 
ered with white calico; in the other he carried -a little bunch 
of roses and sweet-scented verbena, at which, every now and 
then, he sniffed with apparent pleasure. He bade Isabel 
welcome with gentle cordiality; looked at her for a moment 
or two with a wistful expression in his eyes, sighed softly, 
then wandered into the garden, and, folding up his um- 
brella, occupied himself in pruning an ill-kempt rose-bush 
or thinning a bunch of grapes. At intervals he would 
draw forth a book from his pocket, and, seating himself, 
would read intently for a few minutes, then proceed again 
with his work. 

Mrs. Blaize had established herself during the reading 
before her sewing-machine, and now watched her husband 
with evident and touching sohcitude, uttering every now 
and then some remark of a tender, expostulatory kind, 
which called forth the baldest response. 

It struck Isabel that there was a peculiar pathos in the 
attitude of this couple. The pathos was that of common- 
place life and character, which appeals less forcibly to our 
sensibilities, perhaps because we meet it at every street cor- 


74 


THE HEAD STATION. 


ner and in every homely existence that comes into contact 
with onr own. The wistful affection of the wife, in which 
there was an element of comicality, suggesting the flutter 
of a well-feathered hen, contrasted sharply with the melan- 
choly apathy of the husband. Why must our sympathy be 
alwa.ys ready on demand for youth and beauty in distress, 
and why should there be so little to spare for the middle- 
aged and unlovely? Kind-hearted Mrs. Blaize, with her 
petty sentimentalities, her garrulous tongue, her blonde 
curls, and her fifty years, had her own world of romance 
and of secret care. Profoundly loving her husband, she 
nursed in her bosom the bitter consciousness that but affec- 
tionate toleration was awarded her in return. Her tears 
fell frequently, mingling with the spice and saltpeter which 
made her rounds so excellent, and with the water which 
washed her butter. Her childless condition was to her a 
cause for mourning; and, also, when she read her Bible, 
being a devout woman and an implicit believer in the book 
of Genesis, she grieved that her husband had cast away his 
faith in a personal and beneficent Creator, and had aban- 
doned the vocation unto which he had been called. 

Mr. Blaize' s falling away dated from the sudden death by 
drowning of his only child — a daughter by his first wife, to 
whom he had been devotedly attached. From that time he 
had become a changed man. He no longer cared to work. 
He refused to visit or to preach; and would have drifted 
quietly to the grave had it not been for his wife's pathetic 
reproaches and his nephew's kindness in giving him a 
home. He had lived in James Ferguson's employment for 
several years; and it must be stated that Mrs. Blaize' s effi- 
ciency as a housekeeper amply atoned for any short-comings 
on the part of her husband. 

She clung to a belief in his superior intelligence, but upon 
what grounds she based her opinion a stranger would have 
found it difficult to determine. It was not upon record — in 
the Eura district — that Mr. Blaize had ever uttered an origi- 
nal observation : and, though he read incessantly, his learn- - 
ing did not, as was the case with his brother, bear fruit in 
the shape of quotation or argument. Sometimes, when 
pacing the garden-walks in the compapy of his wife's 
nieces, after a long silence he would halt and turn with a bird- 
like eagerness which seemed to indicate the birth of a new 
idea, and then Gretta would hold herself expectant. But no; 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


75 


I always think myself/^ he would remark, and here 
pause deliberately, I always think myself — that some 
flowers are particularly fragrant,’^ whereupon Gretfca would 
laugh hysterically; and it became the custom at Doondi to 
preface the most obvious platitude with, ‘‘ As Mr. Blaize 
would say I think myself, etc. 

Later in the day Mrs. Blaize^s secret sorrow found vent. 
She and Isabel were sitting alone in the veranda, Patrick 
Desmond and Old Gold having betaken themselves to 
bathe in the creek. Dusk was falling; a cool wind swept 
up over the downs. The milkers were lowing on their way 
to the yard: the fowls were leisurely seeking their roost. 
Mrs. Blaize stitched assiduously at a pair of riding-breeches 
she was fashioning, till the light failed her, casting every 
now and then a tender glance toward her husband, who still 
hovered over his rose-bushes. She let her hands fall upon 
her lap, and began to talk. 

I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry when I look 
at my old man. Observe him now, weeding the lawn in 
that coat. For all the world he might be a hen sitting 
upon a nest of addled eggs. Well, his eggs are addled: — 
that’s about the long and short of it. I wish you could 
have seen him as he used to be before his daughter died. I 
sometimes wonder, in all reverence, my dear, whether the 
Almighty just realizes Dis responsibilities in dealing with 
us human beings. When ye think of what a small thing 
would have made all the difference to one of us, and have 
been nothing at all to Him, it’s hard to see why it shouldn’t 
have been given. Most people have a right to expect that 
the laws of 'nature won’t pass them by, but it seems as 
though that was too much to ask. It’s a sad thing for a 
woman when she has no little ones of her own to love. I 
don’t give a mother much credit for keeping herself clear 
from the pitfalls of life; but there’s a deal of credit in liv- 
ing respected and doing nothing much amiss when there 
are no soft arms to hold you tight back from mischief. 
And it’s a sad thing, and a bitter thing,” continued the 
old lady, ‘‘when you feel that, by bearing your husband 
bairns, you might have made up to him for the great grief 
of his life. ” 

There was a little pause, during which Mrs. Blaize wiped 
away a tear and Isabel watched Mr. Blaize, reflecting that 
a love which could encircle that gray head with a halo of 


76 


THE HEAD STATION. 


romance must be indeed powerful. It was borne in upon 
her for the first time that the old as well as the young have 
their heart-dramas; and she wondered that, with all these 
under-currents of sentiment flowing in unexpected places, 
life could ever seem prosaic. 

“It is children who keep human hearts green, ^^con- 
tinued Mrs. Blaize. “ There^s poor Hester Murgatroyd, 
worse than a widow at eighteen. If her child had lived she 
would have been flesh and blood instead of the queer dreamy 
creature she is now. 

“ Is Mrs. Murgatroyd cold, then?^^ asked Isabel. 

“ Cold!’^ echoed the old lady; “starved, petrified, my 
dear. And what would you have? Better be a marble 
woman than love too late. She had her disappointment, 
and now she looks upon every man as a brute, and lives in 
her books. She is the most unpractical creature, and it^s 
a mercy that Gretta shows a taste for housekeeping. 
You^’ll admire Gretta. She^s a taking creature, with just 
a look of birth and breeding that fits in somehow with her 
flightiness. But that is not surprising, for her mother and 
my first husband were O^Haras, and Duncan Reayhas good 
blood in his veins for all that he began life as a shearer. 
Ah, my dear, there ^s strange ups and downs in Australia. 
If I were just to tell you a few of my experiences in the 
early days at Oreti Downs 

“ Oh, pray do, Mrs. Blaize exclaimed Isabel; and the 
old lady began the monologue, which conversation was apt 
to become when she took part in it. 

“ That was the name of my first husband’s station. It 
was just on the borders of civihzed country. All beyond 
was unexplored, except by blacks, and they were so savage 
that the first thing Mr. O’Hara taught me was how to use 
a gun. I became a capital shot, and the blacks used to 
say ‘ That fellow White Mary cobbon saucy. Plenty bong, 
gun along a that fellow. ’ I was a girl not as old as you 
when I came out with my husband, and was brought up in 
lish village, I dare say much as you have been 



Isabel leaned sympathetically forward, and her eager 
questions interrupted the flow of Mrs. Blaize’s reminis- 
cences. 

“ Yes, I once killed a black fellow. Don’t talk of it; 
the thought lies like lead on my soul. I feel that I can’t 


THE HEAD STATION. 


77 


do enougli to Christianize the poor creatures, as a sort of 
atonement. It was the only thing to do. I was alone. 
There wasiiT even a Chinaman about the place, and Mr. 
O’Hara was counting sheep, fifteen miles off.” Mrs. Blaize 
shuddered. ‘‘Counting the sheep was a great business,” 
she resumed; “ it had to be done at sundown and, of 
course, night had alwa 3 ^s set in before my husband re- 
turned. . . . No, I was never very frightened; but, if I 
thought there were any blacks about, I used to shut the 
doors as well as I could, call the dogs, and walk round the 
house wdth my pistol. You see we had no proper fasten- 
ings to our shutters, and no panes of glass; and, sitting in 
the light, I should have been such a good target for a 
spear — 

“ Upon one occasion, when Mr. O’Hara was absent. Ah 
Sing, a Chinese shepherd, whom we had turned into a 
cook, rushed in to me, trembling like a leaf. ‘ Missee!’ he 
whispered, ‘ me see muchee black man. All come round 
outside kitchen.’ 

“ There they were — an array of them — naked, tattooed 
creatures, very quiet, as blacks are when they mean mis- 
chief. Yes. I was frightened then; but to show that I 
was so would have been death — or worse. I took my gun 
and gave a pistol to Ah Sing, but he shook so that he 
couldn’t hold it; then I went out and boldly pointed the 
muzzle at one of the two foremost. ‘ You yan,’ I said, as 
impressively as I could. ‘ Ba’al you sit down a- long a 
humpy to-night.’ The wretches seemed to hesitate. One 
of them raised his spear. I put my finger on the trigger of 
my gun, ready to fire. He saw that I was in earnest and 
dropped the spear, and presently they all moved away. 
Oh, it’s very easy to cow the blacks; they have a terror of 
fire-arms. 

‘ ‘ There was a great deal that was amusing in the life, 
rough as it was; hut after I had been four years at Oreti 
Downs I felt a perfect craving to speak to a woman. 1 had 
not seen one since my arrival, and I used to lie awake at 
night planning how I could get to the nearest township 
where Mr. Blaize and his wife lived, and that was nearly 
two hundred miles off. At last my husband and I started 
on our long ride. I shall never forget the first night we 
camped out — the clear sky above us with all its wonderful 
stars; the strange sounds, and the loneliness and bigness of 


78 


THE HEAD STATION*. 


the bush. It gave me quite an eerie feeling. My dear, the 
story of that ride would take hours to tell. Little did I 
think then that I should ever be married to the man I was 
going to visit. At his house I saw, for the first time, my 
brother-in-law Gustaviis Blaize, who had just married the 
most beautiful creature I ever beheld. For her sake I have 
always kept up a tender feeling toward ‘ Old Gold,'’ but he 
is too full of self-conceit for my taste. They had only been 
a few months out from England, and she was just a glory 
of lace and fine linen. She laughed at my outlandish 
dresses, and did up my hair in the style she wore her own. 
I used to have beautiful hair,^^ and unconsciously Mrs. 
Blaize touched her yellow-gray curls. ‘ ‘ She took my 
gowns to pieces and made them up anew; and we danced, 
sung, rode, and walked, and were as happy as a pair of 
school-girls. 

The next time I saw her was at Oreti Downs, where 
she came to pay us a visit with her husband — and a bath. 
I remember the bath well, for it seemed such an odd thing 
to travel about the bush with. They stayed for three 
months, and, as far as she was concerned, might have 
stayed forever, but he was lazy and cowardly and full of 
fine talk — in fact the most aggravating person to have in 
the house, for when he was stuffed he was thirsty, and as 
soon as his thirst was quenched he wanted to be stuffed 
again. While we were singing over our tubs and making 
merry at our baking he would sit in the veranda with his 
book and a glass of brandy. My dear, ITl tell you in confi- 
dence that it^s brandy that ruined his liver and killed his 
wife; he has seen the folly of his ways and amended them, 
but it^s true, and brandy has a deal to answer for in Aus- 
tralia. There he would sit sipping his grog, and crying out 
‘Oh, this is rural! This is idyllic! This is truly poetic! 
This is a life worth living!^ But when there came an alarm 
of blacks he would let me go to the front with his gun, and 
hide himself till it was over. . . . But, my dear Miss 
Gauntlett, Fve let my tongue run away with me; times 
have changed since then. My old man has gone in, and 
here are the fencers for their rations. TheyTl be pleased 
to hear that a bullock has been killed, after having lived 
on salt-junk for a month. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


79 


CHAPTER XIII. 

WYEROO DIGGINGS. 

Now then, now then! Roll up for the diggings. Who 
is for the Wyeroo deep sinkings, where all the best gold is 
found? Take you twelve miles for half a crown, gentle- 
men; a cheap ride and a good one. Take you for eighteen 
pence. Take you for nothing, sir, but the pleasure of your 
company and whatever you choose to give me.^^ 

The scene was a rough township, which might have been 
at the other end of nowhere, so desolate and uninhabited 
was the surrounding region, limestone ridges rising out of 
flat eucalyptus-grown country, stony pinches covered with 
grass-trees — sure indication of unprofitable soil, bolder 
mountains in the background; and here, where the Gunda- 
lunda buggy had halt^ to water and refresh the horses, a 
cluster of bark huts, a low railway-shed dignified by the 
name of terminus, and a dirty uninviting-looking tent, sur- 
mounted by a placard on which was printed in crooked 
letters ‘‘ The Dead Finish Restaurant.^' 

The train had just steamed on. Before “ The Dead 
Finish " one of Cobb's coaches was drawn up, and upon 
the boot a man was seated, dressed digger-fasiiion, with a 
dirty cabbage-tree hat and a bowie-knife stuck in his belt, 
gesticulating wildly with his arms and holding forth induce- 
ments to the undecided or unwary to take their places for 
the Wyeroo deep sinkings. 

A little band of third-class passengers, carrying valises 
and blankets, some with pickaxes, and all with the inevita- 
ble pint-pot and tin billy, hurried from the terminus to 
the coach. Some of the men took their seats at once; 
others, evidently bushmen, hesitated, half-turned away; 
and finally, seduced by the blandishments of the guard, 
tossed up their blankets, and clambered into the clumsy 
vehicle, which rattled off over the stony road, the driver 
turning his head and proposing a race with the buggy. 

‘‘ Sure, and 'tisn't much we mind giving ye the start, 
for we shall catch you up on the sandy flat," derisively 
shouted Patrick Desmond. 

Easily done. The coach-horsos were lean and the coach 


80 


THE HEAD STATION. 


was heavy. The spanking Gundalunda team of four sped 
over the level ground, and made light of the hills, which 
grew steeper an(J more numerous as they advanced, for 
they were approaching the mountainous district of the 
Upper Eura. Mr. Gustavus Blaize handled the reins, and 
now that the way had become more difficult, was debarred 
from casting back those tender glances at Miss Gauntlett 
which had been more than once intercepted by Mrs. Blaize, 
and had called forth the wrathful ejaculation, ‘‘ Old fool!^^ 
Isabel perceived that no one appeared to regard Old Gold^s”' 
amorous proclivities as anything but an immediate nuisance, 
and did not allow herself to be discomposed thereby. On 
the whole it was a merry drive. Mrs. Blaize^s tongue 
never ceased wagging about nothing in particular, and 
Patrick Desmond kept up a running lire of Irish would-be 
witticisms, holding himself all the time in readiness to 
jump down whenever a fallen log impeded progress, or a 
leader showed signs of restiveness as a startled wallabi 
crossed the path or a herd of kangaroo bounded by. 

It was wild country. The road slanted down ridges, 
crossed steep gullies and threaded rocky gorges, where 
grew delicate ferns, native hoya, the blue sarsaparilla, and 
beautiful scarlet kennedia. Now they entered a dense 
scrub where perpetual twilight reigned, while strange dank 
creepers twined the ghostly trunks of the bottle-trees, and 
the clearings seemed like vast cathedral aisles. Here the 
air was steamy and the stillness oppressive; but, once more 
out in the open, a warm breeze fanned the long-bladed 
grass, locusts whirred, and birds and insects held jubilee. 

Presently the hills were dotted with slab dwellings and 
low lines of tents. Trees had been cut down. In the 
gullies were holes hollowed by the gold-seekers; while here 
and there great heaps of earth and mullock, and unsightly 
erections for crushing quartz, indicated the whereabouts of 
a claim. 

The buggy rattled down a long straggling street lined 
with zinc-roofed sheds, stores, and weather-board shanties, 
and beyond the town, on to a billowy plain full of deserted 
holes, in the center of which a solitary Chinaman was 
watering his little garden, and after the patient habits of 
his nation was making a livelihood out of the workings 
abandoned by more adventurous Europeans. 

The buggy stopped at a little way-side inn close by; the 


THE HEAD STlTIOK. 


81 


horses were taken out, some drinkables purchased, and 
Mrs. Blaize^s well-provided luncheon-basket unpacked be- 
neath the shade of a great apple-tree gum, not far from 
the Chinaman ^s garden. When they had reached the des- 
sert stage the ancient Celestial, in his blue smock and wear- 
ing a pigtail, came forth bearing flat-stone peaches, guavas, 
and a water-melon, which he laid for sale before the 
strangers. He lingered while they eat the juicy fruit, and 
shook his head over the badness of times. 

“ My makee garden,^ ^ he whined. ■ “ Before time, ten 
year ago, my makee plenty money. Just now, oh! too 
muchee man makee garden — plofit velly little. Diggings 
here no count. In New South Wales, diggings tai yat for 
Chinaman. Here, no Chinaman. My velly lonely. 

“ True for you; a boy is always lonely till he has got a 
wife,^^ said young Desmond. You should marry, John.^^ 

“ Mally!^^ shrieked the Chinaman. What for my mal- 
ly.^ My no fool — oh! No mally European woman. En- 
glishee woman no good. 

And with a glance of contempt at the two ladies John 
stalked away, carrying his guavas with him. 

“ There^s one for you. Miss Gauntlett,'’^ said Desmond. 

And that^s the Great Phoenix that ye see over there. 
The shaft is on the hill-side, by all those heaps of mullock. 
You can hear the buzz of the machinery and the roar of 
the blasting. Come, Mrs. Blaize — sure it^s only two hun- 
dred feet down in a cage — nothing of a journey. 

“Not said Mrs. Blaize, stoutly. “Here I shall 
stay, and discuss the marriage question with John China- 
man; and I think, Gustavus,^^ she added, in a louder key, 
“ that you had better follow my example, and profit by 
Asiatic wisdom. DonT you go running after Englishee 
women. 

“ Listen, Judith,^^ began Mr. Gustavus, in that grandilo- 
quent tone whicly announced a quotation — 

“ ‘ He who bends to himself a joy 
Does the wingdd life destroy. 

But he who kisses a joy as it flies 
Lives in eternity’s sunrise. ’ 

I kiss as it flies, or rather delves — excuse the far-fetched 
metaphor — the joy of accompanying Miss Gauntlett into 
the recesses of the Great Phoenix mine.^^ 

Everybody laughed. Isabel had blushed a little, but she 


S2 


THE HEAD STATION. 


was beginning to see that blushes were too high a compli- 
ment to pay tha&Australian “ chaff/^ She grew nervous at 
the thought of Lady Hetherington^s dismay^ could she have 
been present, and was relieved when Mrs. Blaize created a 
diversion by sending young Desmond after the Chinaman 
and his basket of guavas. 


CHAPTEK XIV. 

THE MINER BRADDICK. 

Isabel, Desmond, and Mr. • Gustavus walked to the 
mouth of the shaft. 

The manager's time, the mine, the men, were placed at 
Miss Gauntletc’s disposal. Some hurried ordeis having 
been given, the party took their seats in a queerly con- 
structed cage, and found themselves descending into the 
bowels of the earth. The cage swayed to and fro; there 
was a sense of oppression and suffocation. Mr. Gustavus 
coughed and groaned. 

“ Oh, my enemy cried he, tragically. 

‘‘ ^ Is it the devil that Mr. Gustavus Blaize has got in his 
inside?^ Jinks Clephane always asks,"’"’ said Mr. Desmond, 
aside to Isabel. ‘‘ ^ And av it^s the devil, ^ she says, ‘ lieM 
better be whopped like father whops me. ^ 

The cage touched the bottom. A miner standing on one 
side handed each a lantern. The man was evidently known 
to Patrick Desmond, for he nodded: 

Howl’s yourself, old fellow.^ ITl be after having a 
word with you by and by. 

The miner did not answer, but held back, letting them 
pass on into a narrow passage tunneled in the reef. Then 
he followed at the distance of several paces. The dark 
walls closed them in like 'the sides of a tomb. Every now 
and then, a gleam from one of the lanterns revealed a 
trickle of moisture, or a brightly veined seam of quartz. 
The air was stifling. Their footsteps fell with a dull noise, 
and their voices echoed strangely. The only otlier sound 
to be heard was the distant thud of pickaxes at work. 

The manager walked in front as guide. Isabel and her 
two squires, abreast, came next. She tried to widen the 
distance as much as possible, for her position was embarras- 


THE HEAD STATtOH. 


83 


sing to a young lady conventionally brought up. On one 
side, Old Gold, his sense of hearing (feadened, bawled elabo- 
rate compliments in the intervals between his stumbles; on 
the other, Patrick Desmond poured into her ear a stream 
of under-toned comment. 

‘‘ The English snowdrop will ere long be changed into a 
bright-hued exotic, said Mr. Gustav us, concluding some 
inquiries concerning IsabePs health with an allusion to her 
recent transplantation. 

“ Eaith then, and it^s the potting of ye heM like to be 
having, whispered Pat. “ Miss GauntlettJ 1^11 be before- 
hand with him. Your room in my heart will be kept nice 
and warm, well swept and dusted. It^s a sky-parlor on 
the right side of the throb. 

‘‘ Poor little flower tenderly observed Old Gold, falling 
at the moment over a heap of rubbish. But he recovered 
himself, and continued with dignity: “ You perhaps know 
those exquisite words of a German author, which w^ould 
seem to refer to such chance enjoyments as that which your 
short stay at Gundalunda has procured for us.^^ 

“ HeM talk the head off a hatchet, murmured Patrick. 

‘‘ Ahem! ‘ So many rich and lovely flowers which bear 
no fruit spring up on the pathway of life that it is a happi- 
ness poetry was invented 

But the quotation was never flnished. Mr. Gustavus in 
his enthusiasm had quickened his steps, drawing young 
Desmond with him. Isabel on the other hand had fallen 
back with the vague intention of changing the conversation 
by asking a question of the miner who followed. As she 
lingered a low rumble sounded in the gallery. The two 
foremost turned, startled by the noise, and hardly realizing 
how far behind was their companion. Come, Miss Gaunt- 
lett,-’^ they cried. But at that moment there was a deeper 
roar and sharp concussion, then darkness. The earth 
shook. Isabel felt herself seized in a powerful grip from 
behind, and drawn almost with the qiuckness of thought 
toward a side passage, while an authoritative voice said 
“ Stand back — donT be frightened. 

A mass of loosened stone had fallen, extinguishing the 
lights and blocking up the tunnel. There was a pause of 
horrified silence broken by the voices of Mr. Gustavus 
Blaize, Patrick Desmond, and the manager, blending dis- 


84 


THE HEAD STATION*. 


mayed in a chorus of ejaculations, and reassuring her as to 
the safety of their owners. 

I am glad they are not hurt/^ she said, unconsciously 
drawing a deep breath of relief, and hardly considering 
whom she was addressing. 

The miner uttered a peculiar sound, something between 
a laugh and a sigh. 

‘‘ Your first thoughts when danger is past are for others. 
Ladies are not usually so self-forgetful, except when the 
safety of those most dear to them is concerned — hardly 
then. How far less in the case of comparative strangers! 
Excuse me; of course I heard your conversation. The rock 
has fallen exactly where you were standing. You only 
would have been injured. It is fortunate indeed that I was 
able to pull you back.'’"’ 

Isabel turned, startled by the voice, and unable in the 
darkness to reconcile it with her first impression of the 
rough-bearded man in miner’s dress who had given her her 
lantern. The accents she heard were surely those of an 
English gentleman of refinement and education. So sur- 
prised was she that it did not occur to her to express any 
gratitude for what he had done. 

“ Miss Gauntlett, Miss Gauntlett!” cried Patrick Des- 
mond from the other side of the barrier, in tones of the 
deepest anxiety. 

‘‘ Braddick!” called the manager. 

“ I am here,” answered Isabel, faintly. 

The young lady is not hurt,” said the miner. ‘‘ I will 
take her back. You will find it difficult to pass that block. 
Had you not better turn up to the higher level, and let us 
meet you at the shaft?” 

‘‘ Why the deuce didn’t they attend to my orders, and 
stop blasting?” said the manager, angrily. 

‘‘ There has been a mistake,” calmly rejoined the man. 
“ It would be better to go back, and not risk its being re- 
peated. ” 

Mr. Blaize eagerly embraced this view of the matter. 
He entreated Isabel to forgive his involuntary desertion. 
He implored the manager to proceed to the higher level. 
Let them gain the surface as quickly as possible. There 
was no saying what accident might not happen. Patrick 
Desmond took tender leave of Isabel through the wall of 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 85 

stone. Their steps died away, and she was left in the dark- 
ness with her new companion. 

The latter struck a match, and relit the candles. She 
was then able to examine his face. Assuredly, she had 
been right in her conjecture. On a more prolonged scru- 
tiny the physiognomy confirmed the voice. Whatever his 
clothes, or .the marks of toil upon his person, ihis man was 
a gentleman. 

A pair of dark gray eyes looked straightly into hers. 
They were large, full lidded — rather striking eyes. Not- 
withstanding’a certain melancholy in their expression they 
darted a gleam of humor. The forehead was prominent, 
the brows full; the features firm and compact. The mouth 
and chin were concealed by a thick dark mustache and 
short beard, evidently of recent growth, which gave an un- 
kempt appearance to the face. 

“ I ought to say — I donT know how to thank you,^-’ be- 
gan Isabel, confusedly, and paused. 

“ Not at all. It is I who should beg your pardon for 
having spoken so freely. To tell the truth, I forgot for 
the moment that we were in Australia. He glanced down 
at his soiled garments — the fiann el-shirt — collarless, the 
rough leggings, and at his bare arms and hands, marred by 
the stains of labor. 

“I might have forgotten that, too,^^ answered Isabel. 
‘‘ I have only been a few days in this country. 

“ Ah! so?"’"’ he said, with a look of inquiry; then seemed 
to check himself. “ You are from England, he went on, 
after a mementos hesitation. That makes itself evident. 

I beg your pardon,'’^ seeing that she flushed, “I meant 
nothing disrespectful. Colonial ladies as a rule like the 
suggestion that their dress or manner is English. That is 
curious, but true, as you will discover. With men the case 
is different. One canH offend a new chum more than by 
telling him he looks like one. You are pleased with what 
you have seen of Australian life?^^ 

I have only seen its bright side as yet. 

Naturally. I hope you will not see any other. At 
any rate, you have come to the most beautiful part of 
Leichart^s Land. There is some grand scenery on the 
Eura river. We ought to he going back, or your friends 
will reach the shaft b^efore us. Will you follow me?^^ 

He strode on. Isabel crept silently in his wake. She 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


86 

felt dazed, and her bosom was fluttered by vague wonder 
and newly stirred sadness. An odd fancy seized her that 
the eyes and tones were in some manner familiar; how, she 
could not tell. The way was uneven and encumbered by 
heaps of loose stone. She tripped over one of these. He 
turned quickly at her half-stifled exclamation. 

“ It is rough walking. I did not remember that before 
you had some one on each side. I canT offer you an arm, 
but 111 hold the lamp so that you may pick your steps 
better. 

They had not far to go. A glimmer of several lamps 
before them revealed the whereabouts of the shaft. The 
manager and his companions were approaching by another 
tunneh Isabel paused, vividly realizing that this man had 
saved her life; that she would in all probability never see 
him again, and that she had rendered him but the baldest 
acknowledgment of the service. A strange shyness over- 
powered her. Suddenly, her dream in the train flashed 
into her mind. She colored deeply, and was still more 
embarrassed by the consciousness that he was now facing 
her, and by the light of her own candle could observe her 
blush. “ Mr. Braddick — I think that is your name,^'’ she 
began, hesitatingly. ‘‘ I have not said anything to you 
that I ought. I might have been killed but for you. 

He lowered his lamp, and looked at her earnestly. ‘‘We 
shall perhaps meet again. Miss Gauntlett, and I may then 
have an opportunity of earning your thanks. 'I have not 
done so yet. You are remaining in this district?^"" 

“ I am going to stay for some time with my uncle. Cap- 
tain Clephane.^^ 

“At Tieryboo? I passed by there a Httle while ago, 
overlanding cattle. For aught that I know, I may cross 
the border again soon. When one is digger, stockman, 
drover — anything in short that offers a means of livelihood 
— one is apt to find one^s self in many different places. 
And, now that your friends are here, I will leave you. 
Good-bye. 

There was a note of bitterness in his voice wliich roused 
her keenest sympathy. Obeying an impulse, she stretched 
forth her hand. He did not see, or would not take it. 
Kaising his hat and bowing with distant politeness he turned 
in the direction whence they had come. Patrick Desmond 
advanced: “ Oh, Miss Gauntlett, iPs thankful that I am/^ 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


87 


he began effusively. “ You ^11 have seen enough of the 
mine, and Mr. Gustavus will give us no peace till we are 
out of hearing of gunpowder. Don^t be off in such a hurry, 
Braddick,^^ he shouted. “ There ^s something l^ve got to 
talk to you about. 

But Braddick had disappeared. 

They entered the cage, and Mr. Gustavus Blaize suc- 
cumbed once more under the grasp of his enemy. Isabel 
was preoccupied, and replied at random to the manager’s 
apologies and invitations to come again. She was experi- 
encing the curious sensation of contact between actual and 
visionary life. As in the darkness of the storm she had 
met the gaze of her dream companion, so Braddick’s eyes 
had pierced the gloom of the mine; and both glances were 
charged with the same fire — the same melancholy. 

They lingered for a little while to witness the quartz- 
crushing operations, then walked across the plain back to 
where Mrs. Blaize had remained with the buggy. Once 
again beneath the blue of heaven, Mr. Gustavus became 
sentimental and didactic, and proceeded to expatiate upon 
the relations of Nature with Art and Love, according to him 
prime factors in the working of the universe. Suddenly 
he observed: 

‘‘ The face of that miner who brought you back to the 
shaft seemed familiar to me. Miss Gauntlett. I connect it 
with one of my many visits to England, but in what par- 
ticular, at this moment, eludes my memory. I think you 
mentioned his name, Desmond. 

‘‘ It’s Braddick that he calls himself, and he is the man 
I was speaking of to Mr. Eeay that had been drover to that 
thief of the world, old Fyson. He is a gentleman, Mr. 
Gustavus; and, if it’s the private detective business that 
ye’ll be after, there are plenty more sprigs of gentility down 
on their luck in these parts that’ll give ye exercise for your 
brains. Sure if Wyeroo isn’t just swarming with the aris- 
tocracy, counting meself — for isn’t my own cousin Viscount 
Macrone — with three healthy boys between me and fortune? 
Ah, Miss Gauntlett, dear, if it’s high society that you’re 
pining for, just walk with me by the Boomerang Gully 
and I’ll show you three ‘ honorables ’ up to their knees in 
dirty water, with no more than a blanket apiece and two 
tin ‘ billies ’ among them. ” 


88 


THE HEAD STATION. 


CHAPTER XY. 

A GEHTLEMAH FEOM ENGLAND. 

Upon the return of the excursionists from Wyeroo, 
Gundalunda did not show the deserted aspect it had worn 
when they had left the station that morning. 

It was Saturday afternoon. The hands had come in for 
their rations and were gathered round the veranda of the 
store-room, where Mr. Blaize was weighing out the weekly 
allowance of flour, tea, and sugar — “ eight, four, and a 
quarter — which he mechanically ticked down in the day- 
book beside him. Several horses turned out near the yard, 
with the saddle-marks fresh upon their backs, gave evi- 
dence of late arrivals; while bridles, stock-whips, a ud sun- 
dr}' bundles of blankets, telhng of the return of Ferguson ^s 
mustering-party, were piled upon the low bark roof of one 
of the lean-to huts — a convenient place for drying pur- 
poses, to judge from the miscellaneous articles there exhib- 
ited — lengths of green hide, damp saddle-cloths, and pieces 
of salt-junk, of the color and consistency of leather. 

Combo, the aboriginal, danced out to meet the buggy and 
unstrap the leaders, shouting, “ Budgery massa sit down 
along a humpey. That give black fellow nobbier and a 
group of the camp blacks, who had not been similarly fa- 
vored, set up a howl, while they contemplated with melan- 
choly admiration a brand-new valise of superior manufact- 
ure, a silver hunting-flask, and a light water-proof which 
hung over the garden-palings. 

“By these tokens I should say that Captain Clephane 
has brought over a new chum from Nash^s, or that Mr. 
Bertram Wyatt has arrived said young Desmond. 

Mrs. Blaize fluttered across the yard to her husband, full 
of anxious inquiries as to his welfare during her absence. 
“ You havenT been working in the heat of the sun, have 
you, now, darling? And if there are any more rations to 
be weighed let me do it while you chat to Miss Gauntlett. 
She wonT be much longer with us, if iPs true that her 
uncle has come. And where is Duncan Reay?^ ^ 

Mr. Blaize turned his eyes affectionately upon Isabel. She 
had often ^aught hisga25e^so fixed; and suspected, what was 


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89 


indeed the truth, that she reminded him of his dead daugh- 
ter. But he only sighed, saying nothing, then absently 
placed in his wife's hands the scoop with which he had been 
ladling out sugar. 

Mr. Reay has gone home across country; but he has 
sent a friendly message, Judith, and a letter from Gretta 
begging us to go over there at Christmas. I think that 
change of scene is pleasant sometimes,, and so will accept 
the invitation if you are agreeable, and if Mr. Ferguson and 
his partner are willing." 

“ Dear heart!" said Mrs. Blaize. It would be a poor 
Christmas that we should spend by ourselves at Gunda- 
lunda, for James Ferguson isn't likely to stop far from 
Doondi. Has Mr. Wyatt comeF" 

Yes; Mr. Bertram Wyatt has arrived in the company 
of Captain Clephane, who is anxious to move on to-mor- 
row. I'm sorry to think that we are losing you. Miss Gaunt- 
lett. Here they come: and I'll leave you, for I'm a little 
out of my element amongst strangers." 

The old man shuffled off. Mrs. Blaize was dismissing 
the last of the hands with a nod and a handful of dried ap- 
ples for his children. There was a sound of voices in the 
veranda of the big house," and Clephane, Ferguson, and 
a stranger walked across, the two latter side by side, so that 
Isabel had an opportunity of comparing the owners of 
Gundalunda. 

Mr. Bertram Wyatt in no way resembled his partner. 
He was of the type which is instinctively associated with 
European refinement and cosmopolitan experience. In his 
case the conclusion was hardly justified, for he was Aus- 
tralian by birth; and, though he had been to Oxford, had 
spent a winter in Italy, and knew as much as most people 
about Enghsh and continental society, a considerable part 
of his life had been passed in the colonies. 

He was of slender build, brown in coloring, with full 
eyes set wide apart, a silky mustache, and decidedly hand- 
some profile. His clothes were well made, and none of his 
movements were clumsy. Without seeming self-conscious, 
he gave the impression that he fancied himself superior to 
his surroundings. He had a very pleasant smile, and there 
was about him a suggestion of romantic experience. 

Wyatt had met James Ferguson in Victoria, and, when 


90 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


the latter had sold the station he then owned, the two men 
joined in a new investment. But Ferguson was considered 
the working member of the firm; and all WyatFs knowl- 
edge of the Eura district had been gleaned during a hurried 
visit of inspection prior to the purchase of Gundalunda. 
Some excitement was then created by the rumor of his en- 
gagement to a daughter of the governor of one of the neigh- 
boring colonies, but almost before it could be verified Mr. 
Wyatt sailed for England, and it transpired that the engage- 
ment had been abruptly broken off. The governor in ques- 
tion had lately been transferred to LeichardFs Land. \ 
Wyatt and Mrs. Blaize were old friends, and there was 
real cordiality in his greeting and in the compliments he 
paid her upon the improvements she had effected at Gun- . 
dalunda. It might' have been easily seen that sympathy 
was a necessity to the young man; and there was something 
taking in his dependence upon the good-will of those with 
whom he lived. He seemed disposed to be pleased with 
ever3rthiug, congratulated himself upon having made ac- 
quaintance withMr. Reay and Captain Clephane at Nash^s 
station the night before, and enlarged upon the advantage 
of having such neighbors as those at Tieryboo and Doondi. 
He seemed to aim at saying the right thing, but evidently 
did not wish to appear thoroughly at home in the bush. It 
was not his sphere, but he was amiably determined to ac- 
commodate his aspirations to circumstances. This, every 
tone conveyed; but the affectation or rather conviction was 
so unconscious, so entirely apart from any want of good 
breeding, that it could hardly be quarreled with. There 
was something special in his greeting to Isabel: it seemed 
to take for granted that they must have interests in com- 
mon, and might have befitted a naturalized foreigner wel- 
coming a fellow-countryman to the land of Ms adoption. 
His eye dwelt with pleaMre, that was quiteimpersonal, upon 
certain little adornments and peculiarities to be noticed in 
her dress, not of Australian origin. He began at once to 
talk about England. She was unresponsive. He appealed 
to Clephane, old Gustavus Blaize joined eagerly in the con- 
versation, and the three might, for all the world, have been 
discussing social topics in a London drawing-room. Some 
. spirit of contrariety in Isabel rebelled against the tendency 
to Anglomania. She was glad to avow ignorance, and to' 
disclaim the imputation of superiority. She felt disposed 


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91 


to range herself upon the side of Janies Ferguson, who 
listened with an interest she could not understand, putting 
in a remark every now and then, which had the savor, so 
readily detected, of acquaintance with the thing in question 
by means of books rather than personal experience. 

But there was no doubt that Mr. Wyatt had charming 
manners, was eminently sympathetic; and could talk well. 
The evening passed pleasantly to all, except perhaps to Mr. 
Gustavus, who was silent and depressed. Mrs. Blaize, at 
Wyatt’s request, produced from the store-room (cellars are 
unknown in the bush) some claret of a superior vintage. It 
may be mentioned incidentally that wine of good quality is 
not common in Australian stations, where the usual drink 
is tea or brandy and water. Captain Olephane forgot his 
Australian character, and was full of questions and com- 
ments upon affairs over the water. The ruby liquid was a 
talisman transporting him to well-remembered scenes from 
which he was only recalled by the remembrance of his Mol- 
lie and an allusion to Jinks. Over the water! To Fergu- 
son that phrase represented the mystic world where dwelt 
Gretta’s ideal, so far and yet so near; the great ocean that 
for the others was completely bridged by sympathies and 
associations with which he had no part. 

Isabel listened and wondered. They were sitting in the 
veranda open to the night, with the vast lonely bush stretch- 
ing out to the horizon; and all the- strange perfumes and 
sounds of birds and insects floating in upon the still air. 
But fpr these surroundings it would have been difficult to 
realize that they were many thousands of miles from the 
scene of their talk. Olephane and Wyatt were discussing 
the relations of the motherland with her colonies, and con- 
demning the policy which insists upon turning the latter 
into a haven for the erring and unfortunate. It was absurd 
to suppose that the riff-raff which must certainly go to the 
bottom in more crowded streams would float upon the 
Australian social current. Leichardt’s Land, in especial, 
was quoted as an effective sink, and emigration a conven- 
ient means of enabling impoverished parents to rid them- 
selves of disagreeable incubi in the shape of penniless or 
vicious younger sons. Involuntarily Isabel thought of the 
miner Braddick, and a tender feeling of pity stirred her 
heart as she reflected upon the possible causes which had 
drifted him to Australia. She felt her face grow hot with 


92 


THE HEAD STATION. 


a sudden flush when Patrick Desmond interrupted the dis- 
cussion. 

That man I was talking to you about. Captain Clephane 
— the drover — was at the Great Phoenix to-day; but he 
wouldnT give me the chance of a word with him. ITl be 
wanting a hand if P’m to drive over the cattle you Ve bought 
from Nash^s, and, if you are agreeable, 1^11 give him the 
job, though it is but a short one.^'’ 

“ It may be longer if he is worth anything, said Cle- 
phane, ‘‘ for there ^s the mob to be taken north. You can 
bring him to Doondi, Pat, and weTlseehowhe shapes. We 
sha^nT have any hard work now till after Christmas/^ 

“ Ah, then, sure,^^ said Pat, in a melancholy tone, “ iPs 
under some old gum-tree in the Never Never country that 
1^11 be spending my next Christmas after this one. ITl be 
munching damper and salt-junk.’’^ 

“ And carving it up, and calling one piece mince-pie and 
another turkey,'’^ said Clephane, laughing. “ All the more 
reason we should have a merry Christmas at Doondi. 

You are coming over in a few days, arenH you, Fergu- 
son?/^ he went on. “ And Mrs. Blaize, W'e canH do with- 
out you to help stir the pudding. As for Wyatt I have al- 
most persuaded him to ride over with me to-morrow and 
make acquaintance with my wife and her sisters.^'’ 

Mr. Wyatt did not require much pressing to accept the 
invitation. Soon an attractive programme was made out. 
Clephane, Miss Gauntlett, and Bertram would go to Doondi 
on the morrow. Ferguson and Mr. and Mrs. Blaize agreed 
to follow a week later, while Patrick Desmond, taking 
Wyeroo on his way, and securing the services of Braddick 
as drover, would betake himself to Nash’s station, and put 
in an appearance at the Eeays when the cattle were ready 
for delivery. Work should be suspended during the Christ- 
mas week, and it was proposed that a favorite project of 
Gretta’s — a camping-out expedition to the Comongin Kange 
— should be put into execution. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

AH AUSTRALIAH DAIRY-MAID. 

The dairy at Doondi was a queer, dilapidated building, 
standing by itself, a few yards from the court-yard fence — a 


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93 


square slab hut, with wide apertures between the slabs, and 
a bark roof sloping downward till it almost met the passion- 
fruit-covered palisading that inclosed the earthen veranda. 
Within, it was canvas-lined, cool, dark, and fragrant, with 
a space between the wall and the roof which allowed the 
air to play freely upon the tin pans of creamy milk, each 
covered with spotless muslin, and upon the earthenware 
vessels containing pats of butter, which ought to have been 
hard and golden, but which, to Gretta^s despair, were white 
and flabby, and could not, with the thermometer at 80®, be 
persuaded to shape themselves into anything like an agree- 
able consistency. A gum-tree reared its lanky branches 
above the roof, and every now and then a gust of wind 
would shake down a little shower of leaves and blossoms 
upon the water-cart, a large barrel placed horizontally upon 
a frame of wood, that stood 'close to the dairy. Every morn- 
ing Maafu the Kanaka would bring round the blear-eyed 
stallion, told off for the sober duties of fetching wood and 
carrying water, would harness him to the shafts, and trun- 
dle down to the creek, backward and forward many times, 
and, after replenishing the butts of corrugated iron that 
stood at one end of the house, would restore the cart to its 
former position, so placed that Gretta could draw for her- 
self the water she required for her operations in the dairy. 

This was Gretta ^s province. In early morning and late 
afternoon she stood over her milk-pans, skimming the 
cream, molding her pats of butter, or measuring out their 
allowance to the hut- keepers; while the pet calves and foals, 
of which there were always several to be reared by hand at 
Doondi, the Cochin-China fowls, a tame kangaroo, and a 
young native bear, drank their fill of the thick milk which 
Maafu, her factotum, had poured into the wooden troughs 
outside the veranda. 

The heat of the day was over, and Gretta sat upon a 
little bench under the trailing green withes that hung from 
the roof of the dairy, singing as she churnefl. 

The churn stood in a tub of clear cool water. Round 
and round moved the handle. Sometimes it slipped in its 
socket, and then the drops would splash up on to Gretta’ s 
face and upon the holland apron which covered her blue 
print-dress. Occasionally she paused to rest for a moment; 
then would go on again; her thoughts flowing to the 
rhythmic motion of the wheel, and her snatches of song 


94 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


ceasing^ while, with a look of faint expectancy upon her 
face, her eyes were turned dreamily in the direction of the 
stock-yard for, whereas Tieryboo and the Selection lay 
southward across the river, visitors from Gundalunda must 
certainly appear at the upper slip-rails. 

She was a healthy-minded girl, and the little ebullitions 
of enthusiasm, the longings for exciting experience for some 
phase of life which should not he purely pastoral, were no 
outgrowth of morbid discontent. But Gretta knew that she 
was pretty, and that she had aspirations beyond the com- 
monplace routine of bush life. She felt with a vague, half- 
amused resentment, that she had somehow been defrauded 
of her just rights. At her age most girls had loved — or, at 
least, been wooed by men worthy of love. But no hero 
had, as yet, crossed her path; -not one, at any rate, whose 
magic touch should throw open to her that secret chamber 
of romance which all women so ardently desire to enter. It 
seemed sometimes to Gretta that she was doomed to live 
and die on the banks of the Eura without having gained 
one glimpse of the real world that makes history. Only 
shadows, she thought, could ever reach this quiet retreat — 
shadows of action and of feeling, dim presentments of all 
those thrilling emotions which she fancied might rule other 
lives. Was it then in England alone that heart-dramas 
were enacted? Blind Gretta! who saw nothing of the 
tragedy passing before her very eyes, and to whom the love- 
story of Hester Murgatroyd and Durnford was a sealed 
book. 

She was too much occupied with her own dreams to have 
become aware of the smothered passions burning slowly but 
fiercely in the breasts of these two quiet people, who were 
to her merely a part of her own prosaic surroundings. 
There they both were now in sight, Hester moving sedately 
about the garden, seemingly intent upon the nosegay she 
was gathering to place in Miss GauntletEs room; and l)urn- 
ford yonder, in the veranda of the bachelors^ quarters, 
steadily poring over his book. Gretta did not observe the 
furtive looks which he threw every now and then toward 
the garden; but, while she wondered vaguely whether 
James Ferguson would or would not ride over with her 
brother-in-law that day, and whether, if he did, life would 
be rendered any the more eventful for his presence, she 
cast a thought — partly envious, partly compassionate — at 


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95 


the temperaments which were apparently contenteu with 
monotony, and required no stimulus of agreeable anticipa- 
tion to give point to existence. 

These theories and speculations were not due to the fact 
that Gretta was disappointed with her lot, or that she 
craved excitement and conquest. Of admiration, could 
she content herself with the kind offered, she might have 
had her fill. There was hardly a young squatter or stock- 
rider in the district who was not ready to place himself and 
his possessions at Miss Reay^s feet. But she was fastidious, 
and, moreover, she had been quite sincere in her declaration 
that she would marry no one who was Australian pure and 
simple. Her appreciation of all that emanated from the 
mother- land was genuine, if exaggerated. It must be re- 
membered that Antipodean youth frames its standard of 
ideal perfection upon books, which deal only with the asso- 
ciations of the Old World, and have no connecting links 
with the New. A young community must develop in ac- 
cordance with the peculiar conditions of its being, and it is 
well known that an original departure from received 
canons is usually the outcome of exhausted civilization. 

Gretta was in the position of a provincial genius who 
curses fate that he was not born in London, and can find no 
fount of inspiration apart from the fret and fever of crowd- 
ed humanity. Had James Ferguson been educated in Eng- 
land, thus acquiring a certain social polish, and particular 
modes of thought, and forms of expression which should 
harmonize with the ideal she had created for herself, 
Gretta^s heart would most likely have responded to his de- 
votion. She knew that he was good, true, and manly. She 
leaned upon him with a trust of the depth of which she was 
hardly conscious; and even at times contemplated marriage 
with him as a distant possibility, when she should have 
amply proved to herself the fallacy of romantic visions. 
In the meantime she sighed for a sensation, for a love 
which should thrill her innocent being. He inspired her 
with a homely sort of affection. His society brought her a 
pleasant sense of protection and comfort. She acknowl- 
edged him the superior of all men who had as yet ap- 
proached her as suitors. ‘But he was not her knight — not 
her ideal. He was simply James Ferguson, born’ and bred 
in Australia — a squatter, like her own father and brother, 
practical as they were, and as keenly alive to the vital ques- 


96 


THE HEAD STATION. 


tions of Free Selection, wire-fencing, the marsupial plague, 
and inoculation. She always saw him in her imagination 
clad in bushman^s garb with hands a little roughened by 
toil in the yards, with none of those accessories of refined 
life which she wished to associate with her hero, against a 
background of eucalyptus-trees, lowing cattle, and dull sta- 
tion details. He merely figured as the commonplace per- 
sonage of fiction — plodding, estimable, and provincial, who 
is brought forward as a foil to the fascinating, unreliable 
man of the world. To the latter, the heroine^s woes are 
chiefly due; but he is the very embodiment of that first 
principle in a true girl’s creed, “ Love before all.” 

In the third volume, the prosaic hero’s good qualities 
rule triumphantly. He steers the heroine into calm. He 
is the Deus ex machind who magnanimously brings about 
the finale, either by marrying her to the rehabilitated man 
of her choice, or by consoling her with his own manly virt- 
ues; but at best he is only the secondary personage on the 
stage. Gretta sighed and smiled to think that there were 
not even the materials for his stock-drama at h^nd. It 
was the play with Hamlet wanting. 

The churn-handle moved more slowly, and greasy parti- 
cles exuded from cracks in the lid, telling that the butter 
was coming. A critical juncture this, when the precise 
moment of dashing in the coolest water procurable would 
determine the quality and consistency of the churning. 
Gretta cooeed for the boys and the children, and presently 
her bare arms were plunged into the vessel, the flabby mass 
was brought forth, and the butter-milk poured out in goodly 
draughts, to the satisfaction of Joe, Mark, and Jinks, to 
say nothing of the stray pickaninnies who had stolen up un- 
awares. 

Mr. Durnford, passing by, nodded and smiled. He was 
going to join Hester in the garden. The cord of passionate 
sympathy which bound their hearts together was drawing 
him too strongly to be resisted. He had not spoken to her 
alone since their parting on the evening of that memorable 
thunder-storm. She had caught -a feverish cold, and had 
only to-day left her room. He knew that there would be 
but small opportunity for private conversation at present. 
The Gundalunda party was expected at any moment, was 
even now in sight; but at least he might look upon her. 


THE HEAD STATION. 97 

and might be the richer and the happier for one of her rare, 
sweet smiles. 

‘‘ Will have a drink of butter-milk, Mr. Durnford?^^ 
said Gretta, handing him a pannikin. 

He accepted it with a courteous bow : 

Thank you. Miss Reay. I did not come down for this, 
though. There are whips cracking across the gully, and 
I^m going to tell Mrs. Olephane that her husband will be 
here in a minute or two.'^^ 

“ Oh, they are coming, are they?^'’ said Gretta carelessly, 
though her color rose as she spoke. Well, I have done 
my churning just in time to give them some fresh butter 
with their scones for tea. ^ 

She did not let down her sleeve, or rearrange her apron, 
and determined that she Avould not hurry on her operation 
a jot for the sake of looking like an unoccupied fine lady 
when Miss Gauntlett should first behold her. She went on 
deliberately with her work, patting and squeezing the but- 
ter, draining off the milky water, and pouring fresh into 
the pan. 

“ Now for the mold, Joe; a pat for tea, and one for 
breakfast, and weTl leave the rest to harden till to-mor- 
row. 

Here they are,^'’ cried Joe, as two loud reports from a 
stock-whip rent the air. ‘‘It wouldiTt be Olephane if 
he didnT make you believe that he was behind a mob of 
scrubbers. If Miss Gauntlett is as jolly as she looks, Eng- 
land forever! Youfil have to get a new habit, Gretta, and 
I must lend you my Leichardk’s Town billycock, or ‘ Old 
Gold ^ will forsake you to a certainty. As for you, young 
one,'’^ added Joe, nodding confidentially at Jinks, “don’t 
you count on your young man. You’ll never be Mrs. Pat- 
rick Desmond. Long engagements are a mistake. Jinks. 
What chance has a little witch like you beside that vision 
of beauty? Poor Jinks! And, oh, Moses! Here’s a stun- 
ner! Has Olephane nabbed another new chum? No; I 
never saw a new chum that wasn’t clad for a voyage to the 
North Pole. That fellow can sit a horse too — and, by 
George, he’s on Gundalunda Roadster. The London and 
Oxford mixture, Wyatt, I bet. Oh, I say, Gretta, 2)ull 
down your sleeves. Don’t shock his tender sensibilities. 
He’ll take you for a dairy-maid. And after having loved a 
governor’s daughter!” 

4 


98 


THE HEAD STATION. 


The clatter of horses'" hoofs cut short Joe^s apostrophes. 
The dogs began to bark. Jinks set up a cry of. 

Dad, IVe been a good girl. Has your niece brought 
some snow to cool us?’^ and three riders drew'hp exactly 
opposite the dairy where Gretta was conducting her opera- 
tions. 

Mr. Bertram Wyatt had an eye for the beautiful, and he 
had certainly never been a prettier living picture than that 
of this young girl, standing out against a dark background 
of slabs, and framed by trailing passion-creepers. Her 
baby face, with its peach-like cheeks, great soft eyes, and 
all its tender dimples, was turned slightly upward. Her 
attitude, as she manipulated the lump of butter and tossed 
it on to the dish — which, for mischief ""s sake, Joe held on a 
level with her shoulder — showed to advantage the curves of 
her waist and bust. 

‘‘Capital, Gretta!” sympathetically murmured Jack 
Clephane, as he got down and submitted to the embraces 
of Jinks. 

But Gretta^s butter-making was finished. Mr. Reay, at 
the barking of the dogs, had come forth from the little back 
veranda room which he called his office, and where, with 
door and window wide open, he transacted his station busi- 
ness, to the edification of all loiterers in the back-yard. 
Now, while he assisted Isabel Gauntlett from her horse and 
introduced his two elder daughters to her, Gretta put away 
her butter-pat, pulled down her sleeves, unbuttoned her 
apron, and came shyly forth to greet the new guests. 

“ And this is Gretta,” said her father, proudly drawing 
her toward him; “ this is the wee woman, though she isnT 
so very wee,” he added, lifting his gaze to her respectable 
height of five feet seven inches. “ Mr. AVyatt, I must in- 
troduce you to my youngest daughter, Gretta. And now* 
come into the parlor. TheyTl see after the swags. Youfil 
be wearying for some tea. ” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

FRILLED PETTICOATS. 

Mollie Clephane felt a little shy of her new niece. It 
was a slight relief to her mind when she perceived that Isa- 
bel was certainly shy also, and appeared to wince somewhat 


THE HEAD STATION". 


99 


under the steady gaze of Jinks'^s black eyes. Jinks was 
given to analysis. She always wanted to know the whys 
and wherefores, and never took a situation for granted, but 
reasoned upon it from the past to the future. At the pres- 
ent moment she was trying to determine, from an impartial 
point of view, which was the prettiest — her aunt Gretta 
the new arrival. The decision involved other and more 
complicated considerations. For Jinks was a child of 
strong affections and of a jealous disposition. It was an 
understood thing that she loved Patrick Desmond, and 
that she intended to marry him when she was grown up, 
and to live with him in England. Jinks was quite of 
Gretta ""s opinion in regard to her native land, though her 
skeptical mind accepted, with cautious reservations, the 
various statements that were put forth concerning England, 
and which she was not in a position to verify. Jinks ’s en- 
gagement was a source of amusement to her young uncles 
at Doondi. She bore their chaff with philosophical com- 
posure, for she had already observed, in relation to her 
aunt Gretta, that love-making was considered, on the 
Eura at all events, a legitimate subject of ridicule. At one 
time Jinks had suffered serious qualms of jealousy, and had 
heroically resolved to yield up Patrick to her aunt. But 
Pat’s devotion to Gretta was now cooled down, and he had 
assured Jinks, in the presence of the whole family, that she 
was henceforth to reign as queen of His heart. Joe’s with- 
ering remarks, however, caused Jinks’s faith to waver. 
Pat had once loved Gretta. Pat was notoriously fickle. 
Clearly, if Miss Gauntlett possessed greater beauty than 
Gretta, that surplus quantity might be the ruin oi Jinks’s 
happiness, for never, never could Jinks love again. 

“ Don’t stare so. Jinks,” said Mrs. Olephane, sternly. 

“ I’m sure she isn’t as pretty as Aunt Gretta. Her eyes 
are not as big, and she has no color in her cheeks,” tri- 
umpharftly exclaimed Jinks, and was immediately told that 
little girls should hold their tongues in presence of their 
elders and betters. 

Jinks lowered her eyes. “lam going into the garden,” 
said she, with dignity. “ I shall talk to Maafu — he is not 
my better. You needn’t be afraid. Aunt Hester; I shall 
keep my promise, and be a lady. ” 

In alarm, Mrs. Olephane demanded what she had to say 
to Maafu. 


100 


THE HEAD STATION. 


I am going to ask him how he made his hair yellow, 
said Jinks, and departed looking the picture of innocence, 
but with a deep scheme already laid in her heart. 

The princesses in the story-books had always golden 
locks, and her father drew a sharp distinction between bad 
black-haired children like herself and the blue-eyed fair- 
haired little girls who never fell into tantrums or wanted 
whopping. Isabel Gauntlett^s hair was like unspun silk, 
Maafu^s resembled tow, but there was sufficieni similarity 
in the color of the two to set Jinks^'s imagination working; 
and, as she was aware that Maafu had turned his wiry 
locks from black to yellow, it occurred to her that she 
might accomplish a like transformation, and establish an 
incontestable claim to Pat Desmond ^s favor. 

Mrs. Clephane had taken her guest into the little veranda 
room allotted to her, upon which much housewifely care 
had been expended. Hester Murgatroyd accompanied 
them with the bouquet she had gathered, and placed it in a 
vase upon the dressing-table. Isabel thanked her, and 
made some timid advances toward friendship, but Hester 
was too indifferent or self-absorbed to return them with any 
cordiality. Presently she left the aunt and niece together. 

^‘1 hope you and Uncle Jack wonT find me a great 
trouble,'’^ said Isabel, in a deprecatory tone; my sister — 
we all thought it very kind of you to be willing to receive 
me. 

I hope you wonT think us very rough,” piteously re- 
turned Mollie, feeling awkward and stiff; you have been 
accustomed to a different sort of life, and to comforts, per- 
haps, that we havenT got. We can only give you a wel- 
come, and — and, every one says the scenery about us is 
very fine. Of course it’s very nice to be near Doondi^^’she 
went on with nervous hurry; but I almost wish that Jack 
hadnT thought quite so much about the scenery when he 
bought Tieryboo~and Gundalunda for sale, too, at that 
time!” 

‘‘ Why?” asked Isabel, vaguely. 

^ ^ Oh, we are not fit for anything but store-cattle, we are 
all blady grass and brigalow scrub, you know, and fine 
scenery doesnT make up for that. And then we are on the 
other side of the border, and our drays have to come up 
through New South Wales, which takes a long time. 
There^s no driving-road across the mountains from here. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


101 


and I^m 'afraid yoir‘11 have to leave your big boxes here. 
And just now we are short of stores/^ she added, con- 
fusedly; ‘‘ and there^s no Liebig^s Essence, or cocoa, or 
bottled porter, or anything tasty on the station — and you^re 
so delicate, aren^t you?’^ 

Oh, please cried Isabel, dismayed, ‘‘ you neediVt 
make an invalid of me, and I don^t want bottled porter. I 
am quite strong now. It was only that I had congestion 
of the lungs this autumn, and the doctors said I ought to 
spend a year in a warm climate.'’’ 

Well,” said Mollie, in a tone of satisfaction, ‘Mt is hot 
enough here. It’s too hot for most people. JBut I think 
I’d rather have it than your cold; and we have no mos- 
quitoes on the Eura — that’s one’s good thing. ” 

Isabel remembered the railway journey and Jerry’s tail, 
and assented that it was a good thing; but added that she 
did not mind mosquitoes. 

‘^All new chums say that,” replied Mollie, darkly; 

but just wait till they have to camp out without nets!” 

There was a pause. Isabel had taken off her gloves, and 
Mollie’s eyes wandered from the English girl’s slim white 
hands, which looked as though they had been modeled for 
show under a glass-case, down to her own, sun-browned and 
roughened by work. She felt also the great contrast be- 
tween her home-made gown, and her general air of rusticity, 
and Isabel’s perfectly cut riding-habit, and graces of man- 
ner and bearing.' 

Mollie had always cherished a secret resentment against 
Jack’s ‘‘grand English relations, ” two or three of whom 
had written to her on her marriage in terms of distant cor- 
diality, and had taken no notice of her since, till a tem- 
porary home was required for Isabel. 

“She is like a figure out of ^ a fashion-book,” thought 
Mollie; “ she is full of English ways. How she will de- 
spise us all! I dare say that she is wondering now what 
could have induced Jack to marry such a common stupid 
sort of person as I am.” 

Isabel’s wistful gaze failed to correct the impression. 

“ You’d like to change your habit,” said Mollie. “ We 
have a tea-dinner at seven — that is, most of us drink tea — 
it’s the regular thing in the bush, you know. But there’s 
wine, or an}? thing else you like. ” 

“ I like tea,” seriously answered Isabel. 


102 


THE HEAD STATION. 


ril help you to put your things away/^ said Mollie. 

And, oh, they haven^t brought your pack in; I'll see 
after it. " 

She went out, but presently returned followed by a black 
boy with the two canvas-bags that contained a part of Isa- 
bel's wardrobe — the rest had been left in her trunks at 
Giindalunda, to be brought over on the first convenient op- 
portunity. The black boy grinned, and made the clicking 
noise against his teeth which with the natives is expressive 
of admiration. “ Tscb! Tsch!" he said. “ Budgery grass 
belonging to that fellow White Mary. " 

‘‘He means your hair," explained Mollie, touching a 
thick flaxen rope vdiich had fallen loose upon the young 
girl's shoulder. 

- They both laughed, and this broke the ice a little. Mollie 
began to take the things out of the saddle-bags, and to ar- 
range them in the cedar cupboard, which was evidently of 
home manufacture. 

“ Oh!" protested Isabel, “ I am not quite useless. You 
mustn't begin by waiting on me. Aunt — Aunt Olephane." 

Mollie paused with an elaborately frilled petticoat in her 
arms,* which she was contemplating with puckered brow, 
and asked abruptly: 

“ Haven't you got any plain ones? I mean," she added 
nervously, for Isabel looked surprised, “ it would be such a 
pity to spoil this beautiful linen in the washing; and we're 
obliged to have it done by a half-caste woihan at Tieryboo. 
It was such a piece of work teaching her how to get up 
Jack's shirts. " 

“I've plenty of plain ones. Aunt Olephane," replied 
Isabel, submissively. “I'll put these away. " There was 
a tremble in her voice. She was tired and strange, and 
Mollie 's evident distrust other power of adaptabihty jarred 
upon her sensitive nature. 

“Won't you call me Mollie?" said Mrs. Olephane, im- 
pulsively. “ Aunt doesn't seem natural. You're not so 
very much younger than I am." 

“lam twenty-one," said Isabel. “ I will gladly call you 
Mollie." 

“ And I am thirty. Hester is thirty-two, and Gretta is 
twenty. And then there's Sib and the boys. You^'ll get to 
know all about us soon, and all about Australia too." 

. “ I'm very ignorant," said Isabel. “ I don't know any- 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


103 


thing about Australia except what IVe read in ‘ Geoffrey 
Hamlyn/ 

There/^ exclaimed Mollie, with a quicker perception of 
her point of vantage than might have been expected in one 
so stolid, “ I have the pull over you, for we are always 
reading English novels. Though, to be sure, if they are is 
unlike you as ‘ Geoffrey Hamlyn is unlike us on the 
Eura — She paused in perplexed recollection of certain 
florid descriptions of European society which Jack had pro- 
nounced “ rot,^^ but which she fancied might be in har- 
mony with Isabel Gauntletk’s experience of life. I sup- 
pose they are like you. At all events you put me in mind 
of a person in a book. 

“I donT feel like one,^"* answered Isabel, wich a little 
laugh; ‘‘ or rather, I never did in England. I think this is 
like a book. Nothing exciting ever happened to me till I 
came out here — till the other day, and she stopped and 
blushed. 

“ What was that?^^ asked Mollie with interest. “ Did it 
happen while you were at Gundalunda? It wasnT a pro- 
posal from Gustavus Blaize? ThaGs nothing: he proposed 
to Gretta last week.^-’ 

Isabel laughed again. 

It wasnT that. It was only going to Wyeroo, and being 
taken down the mine. There was some blasting, and a 
piece of rock fell quite close to me. I might have been 
killed.-’^ She halted, shrinking from mention of her de- 
liverer; and, dreading further questioning, she counter- 
queried, ‘‘ Why isnT ‘ Geoffrey Hamlyn ^ like you?^^ 

‘‘ Oh, we are not all convicts,^'’ began Mollie — it was now 
her turn to blush hotly — “ and we are not all great people 
in disguise,^'’ she went on hurriedly. And station-life 
isn^t a picnic, nor need you be afraid of bushrangers in 
these parts, though indeed our mailman was in a regular 
funk the other day, for there^s a report that a new Ned 
Kelly, who calls himself Captain Eainbow, has started 
over the border, and stuck up the Preston mail. But I 
wonT frighten you, and I am keeping you from dressing. 
You’ll hear a bell ring soon^ and, if you are not in the 
veranda, ITl come for you here. 

Isabel put out her hands. Her pretty beseeching face 
was turned up toward Mollie, and Mrs. Clephane^s shyness 
was so far overcome that she bent forward and kissed -it 


104 


THE HEAD STATION. 


warmly. I think we ^11 just try to be like sisters. I 
know we shall get on. You didn^t mind what I said about 
the petticoats?^^ 

Thus a good understanding was established between the 
two, and rapidly cemented to a close friendship, when a 
further dive into IsabeTs saddle-bags produced a little Bond 
Street frock for Jinks, and sundry knickknacks for Mollie 
herself, which Lady Hetherington had chosen. The gifts 
and IsabeTs gentle appeal brought about a complete 
change in Monied’s attitude, and the simple-minded, homely 
Australian woman was herself again. 


CHAPTER XYIII. 

IMPORTED FROM EHGLAHD. 

To turn from Doondi veranda toward the somber expanse 
of bush and the majestic line of mountains blocking up the 
horizon, was like gazing out upon a waste of waters from 
the deck of a lighted and crowded ship. 

Doondi was never silent; at evening it was even less so 
than during the day, for the men were all in from the run, 
and the balmy night-air seemed a fit atmosphere in which 
to be conversational and frolicsome. ' 

Every door, front and rear, was thrown wide open. At 
that time of year it was happiness to live in a thorough 
draught. The lamp-light streamed out in broad lines upon 
the veranda-boards and away into the dim garden, widen- 
ing as it traveled, its rays meeting and crossing in the ht- 
tle court-yard, round three sides of which the wooden build- 
ings extended. Of the wings facing each other, one was 
given up to members of the family, including the Cle- 
phanes and their relative, the other contained the kitchen, 
store, and bachelor guest-chambers, while in the main cot- 
tage were the sitting-rooms, two or three bedrooms, and 
Mr. Reay's office, which l^st, having windows looking on 
to the court-yard, was incoWeniently placed for the transac- 
tion of private business. 

The store-door stood open and Sib was giving out rations 
to a late passer-by. 

In the kitchen the dresser shone, the tin covers caught 
reflections from the great open fire-place, and the women 


THE HEAD STATION. 


105 


servants bustled to and fro, every now and then throwing a 
word to the men who were smoking and yarning at their 
ease on the back veranda. Maafu and Combo were chat- 
tering by the water-cask; a pair of young lubras exhibiting 
a fresh-water cod, put forth a claim for “ toombacco;'’^ and 
down from the stock-yard floated the not unmelodious low- 
ing of a mob of beasts which had been brought in t|iat 
afternoon. Captain Clephane, in evening attire of spotless 
white duck, was expending his superfluous energy in the 
cracking of a new stock-whip; and every time the thong 
fell and the sharp st^wt rang through the air Barty gave an 
admiring shout and Jinks executed a leap from the ve- 
randa-rail, to which in the interval she again laboriously 
climbed. 

From window to window, right through the pretty cedar- 
lined parlor all lay visible; and Gretta^’s laughter in the 
front veranda mingled with voices in Mrs. Reay^s study, 
one of which set Hester Murgatroyd^s heart beating as she 
stood arranging some flowers in the parlor. 

A brief colloquy was going on between Mr. Reay and the 
tutor. 

“ Well, Durnford, how are you? For once in a way are 
you coming down to-night? You\e been keeping a good 
deal to yourself lately. Better let Mrs. Baynes know up 
at the quarters that therefll be no dinner wanted this even- 
ing, and join us down here. Afterward weRl just talk over 
that little business you mentioned. 

“ Thank you, Mr. Reay. Yes, I will come, with pleas- 
ure. But Ifll say at once that it was premature of me to 
speak about the affair of the ‘ Review. ^ On consideration, 
I have made up my mind to decline the offer. 

‘‘ Well, J’m glad to hear it. The thing is not so grand 
that you should split scruples, and I have my doubts about 
a matter that old Blaize is concerned with. But youfll trust 
your own judgment, and consult your interests, Mr. Durn- 
ford, without reference to my opinion. 

‘‘ I think that I can best serve my interests by remaining 
at Doondi, since you are good enough to wish it. I hope 
you won’t think I’m unsettled. I was hasty in mentioning 
the proposition before 1 had weighed its disadvantages. I 
won’t keep you, sir; it’s past dinner-time, and I’ll send 
Maafu up to Mrs. Baynes. ” 

‘‘ What has come to the man?” said Mr. Reay a minute 


106 


THE HEAD STATIO^T. 


later, as he passed into the sitting-room where Hester was 
adjusting a spray of lavender statice against a background 
of maidenhair fern on the chimney-piece. ‘‘You never 
saw such a long face as he pulled the day I started for 
Gundalunda. He seems quite perky again now. Then, he 
was all for being off, and to-day he is all for stopping. 
Well, I’ve been given to understand that poets are usually 
a shingle short. I hope it doesn’t mean any nonsense about 
Gretta. Do you think it is anything of that sort, Hester?” 

Hester’s cheeks flushed. She was, by instinct, a truthful 
woman; and when she looked back upon her past career, 
was inclined to judge herself severely for the one course of 
disingenuousness that had resulted in her unfortunate mar- 
riage. It had been, in fact, the outcome of a romantic dis- 
position, and even at the time, her pride had rebelled 
. against it. Since then, her ways had been open, and she 
realized now with a shock that she had henceforth some- 
thing in her daily life to conceal; something, which, if 
known, would be a shame to her and regarded with horror 
by the unsophisticated household of which she formed a 
part. It was natural that Gretta should have lovers, but 
that she, a married woman of thirty-two — Poor Hester’s 
imagination refused to fill up the blank. She dared not 
meet her father’s eyes. And yet a thrill of exitement ran 
through her at the mere suggestion of what the position 
involved, in spite of the shame of it — the secret joys, the 
stolen eye-caresses, the world of understanding which 
should be theirs and theirs alone. And why should it be 
shameful? Why should it be wrong? Why should all the 
sweetness of life be given over to the young, the free? Why 
should there be none for those who had suffered, and whose 
mistakes had forged fetters which must be worn in uncom- 
plaining dignity, but which need not debar them from the 
right to solace"? Hester, lost in bewildering speculations, 
turned with a start as her father repeated his question in 
sharper tones — 

“ Is Durnford in love with Gretta, Hester?” 

“ Gretta!” faltered Hester. “ No, father, I — I am sure 
that he is not.” 

Mr. Reay gave a grunt of satisfaction, ignoring all other 
possibilities of the kind. 

“ Then there’s one fool less than I fancied for a mo- 
ment,” he said. “We have too many love-sick bipeds al- 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


107 


ready about Doondi. I couldn't stand another — established 
on the premises, too! Mollie, Jinks, Clephane! Come 
along! Here's dinner," he called, as a bell sounded 
through the house, creating a little stir in the veranda. 

Miss Gauntlett," he added, making a stride through the 
French window and presenting his arm to Isabel, “ you'll 
allow me the honor?" ^ 

Gretta and Mr. Wyatt were standing outside on the 
gravel-walk, a little apart from the others. She had a pair 
of scissors in her hand, and was cutting some of the early 
ripened bunches of grapes from the vine which tapestried 
the veranda. He held the leaf-trimmed basket, his hand- 
some face turned toward her, his easy well-built figure pict- 
turesquely outlined against an abutting orange-tree. They 
had been interchanging preliminary commonplaces paving 
the way to future intimacy. Gretta had a bright pretty 
fashion of saying nothings, so that they seemed to open up 
indefinite vistas. 

There had been a pause. Gretta was reaching up toward 
a particularly fine cluster pendent from the eaves, and 
which an impatient tug at the vine had set swaying. It 
was barely within reach of her scissors. 

‘‘ Allow me," said Wyatt, politely. 

She had, however, triumphantly snipped the stem. 

‘‘ There!" she cried, ‘‘ I have it." But as she spoke the 
bunch dropped upon the log-steps, and was ‘ bruised to 
pieces. Gretta laughed, though in a discomfited manner. 

“They were too high for you," said Wyatt, seriously. 
“You should set your heart only upon things which are 
easily attainable. " 

“ Is that your philosophy?" said Gretta. 

“ It's a very good system," he replied. 

“ The fruit of intuition or experience?" asked Gretta, 
demurely. 

He hesitated an instant. There was a mischievous flash 
in his eye. Then with a serio-comic air: 

“Your thrusts strike home," he said. “If I say ex- 
perience, at any rate you'll respect my system. " 

“Not I," she exclaimed. “ I'm like Jinks, I never take 
anything for granted. It would upset all my own theories. 
I have no idea of being contented with what falls at my 
feet." 

“ You have ambitions?" 


108 


THE HEAD STATION. 


A million. I couldn^t endure an horizon bounded by 
gum-trees. All the best things are out of reach. I want 
the best.^'’ 

You won^t get them. They'll drop out of your grasp . 
like that bunch of grapes." 

Then I'll make a virtue of necessity and be satisfied 
with the second best/' said Gretta, taking the basket from 
him; “ that's practical jdiilosophy." 

Do you believe in philosophy?" 

“ JSTo; it's like an umbrella which won't open when a 
shower of rain comes on. Do you like grapes?" she counter- 
queried. 

‘‘ When they are easily gathered." 

‘ ‘ That is a dreadfully lazy and immoral sentiment — es- 
pecially for a squatter on the Eura, where each person is 
more energetic than his neighbor. I will give you a task. 
By way of wholesome training in the way you should go, I 
shall insist upon your coming out after dinner and gather- 
ing not only your own dessert but mine, too." 

I agree; you shall train me. I understand that I am 
on probation. Set me some more difficult task. ' ' 

‘‘ One at a time. You won't find grape-picking so easy. 
Hardly any of the bunches are really ripe, and I'm ex- 
tremely particular. I like the best, remember. " 

She passed with her basket into the drawing-room, where 
the rest of the party w^ere already seated. It was an 
anomalous sort of meal. There was tea at one end of the 
table, over which Hester presided, and a piece of corned 
beef at the other. Mollie Clephane was carving a pair of 
chickens. Her husband mildly applauded. ‘‘ At home, 
Mollie always feeds the lambs," he said. “ I revel in 
cooking a damper, broiling a steak on two sticks, or even 
dispensing salt- junk with a clasp-knife, but to carve chick- 
ens at a family repast suggests the country pater-familias 
surrounded by his olive-branches, and calls up horrible 
visions of English middle-class domesticity." 

Mr. Wyatt laughed, and Clephane went on: 

‘‘ There's a want of dramatic fitness about your way of 
living, Mr. Reay. That's the one thing I have to find 
fault with in you Australians. You will not be original. 
You insist upon a Brummagem imitation of British observ- 
ances. I always had a strong fellow-feeling with Mr. 


THE HEAD STATION. 109 

Micawber when he renounced wine-glasses and drank his 
punch out of a pint-pot/^ 

“ Uncle Jack/^ said Isabel, ‘‘in the name of English 
civilization I protest against pint-pots/^ 

“ Don^t you believe in him,"’"’ sardonically remarked Mr. 
Reay, “ he^s a fraud. A fine fellow to talk is Clephane. 
I don^’t say that he can^t work when he is after scrubbeirs 
or wild pigs, or some other scare-brain chase, but now 
hear! He first spends a fortune in carting Basses ale the 
length of Tieryboo, and in the face of that he maintains 
that he has renounced English luxuries. That is na 
reasonable, at least, I donT think so. A man that wonT 
drink tea or honest rum-and-water has no right to call 
himself a bushman. 

There was a general laugh at the expense of Clephane, 
who calmly went to the sideboard and, in the absence of a 
corkscrew, knocked the head off a bottle of beer with his 
knife, then proceeded to pour out and hand round the con- 
tents, filling a pannikin for himself, which he flourished 
with a theatrical air that might have done credit even to 
Mr. Micawber. 

“ The pint-pot is an international compromise, said 
Durnford, making an effort at gayety. 

“ Not at all,^^ replied Clephane in a melancholy tone; 
“ it is a tribute to the memory of old England's pewter- 
measures and the pretty bar-maids who handed them. Why 
don't they start draught-beer and bar-maids on the Wyeroo 
line instead of Beamish & Co., with their cans of unmen- 
tionable anti-mosquito smoke. To be sure. Beamish and 
his can are thoroughly colonial." 

“ They should harmonize with your theory of dramatic 
fitness," put in Durnford. 

“ True," said Clephane, “ they impressed my niece. 
She is very much struck with the reahsm of Australia." 

“ At all events," said Mr. Wyatt, looking toward Durn- 
ford, “ Australian realism has here a fine corrective," and 
his glance seemed to comprehend Hester, and the two 
blooming girls opposite him. 

“Which means?" asked Gretta, with a smile half shy, 
half provocative. 

“ A temple to the Ideal," replied he, promptly. 

“Very pretty," murmured Gretta; and she could not 


110 


THE HEAD STATIOST. 


refrain from a glance at Durnford and Hester which 
brought the red glow into the latter^ s cheeks. 

Durnford exclaimed, 

‘‘ Oh, I am no idealist — that sort of thing is out of date.^^ 

And Gretta went on, 

Mr. Wyatk’s speech was worthy of Mr. Gustavus 
Blaize;^-’ then she inquired whether Miss Gauntlett had 
made that gentleman'’ s acquaintance. 

Some light banter followed, and a volley of questions 
from the boys as to IsabeFs impressions of Leichardt^s 
Land generally. 

‘‘You must make a public announcement,'’'’ said Gretta, 
“ like a certain royal personage who has been touring in 
the Antipodes, and who made a point of saying, the mo- 
ment any one was presented to him, ‘ I am much surprised 
at the size of Australia; I think Sydney harbor the finest in 
the world; and I have not eaten a damper; and now we 
will have some conversation.’’ 

“ Talking of personages,’’^ said Mr. Reay, passing his 
cup down for some more tea, “ I am curious to see what 
sort of a chap they are sending us for a governor. A 
nonentity, I make no doubt. A crown colony is a bad 
school. Didn’t some one say you were acquainted with 
him, Wyatt?” 

“ I was his private secretary for six months,” replied 
Bertram, collectedly. 

An uneasy consciousness disturbed Mr. Reay. 

“ Bless me! I remember hearing. But gossip goes in 
at one ear with me and out at the other. A pack of havers! 
You were private secretary? An upper-footman kind of 
business, isn'’t it? Six months? I suppose you couldn’t 
stand the place?” 

“ It didn’t stand me,” said Bertram, grimly. “ The 
whole thing was a fluke,” he hastened to explain, but his 
manner seemed a little forced. “ I came out from England 
in the same steamer with His Excellency, who was kind 
enough to take a fancy to me. His secretary got fever or 
something else on the voyage, and had to be sent home, 
and I was offered the billet, pro tern. You’ll find General 
Baldock very amenable to his ministers, Mr. Reay; and if 
you are fond of balls. Miss Reay, I can prophesy tliat there 
will be a good many at Government House, for Miss Bal- 
dock, who is at the head of affairs, is very fond of gayety.” 


THE HEAD STATION. 


Ill 


The boys were burning to ask some questions about Miss 
Baldock, and Joe tactlessly began, “ I say — when Gretta 
interposed. 

“We donT know much about Government House or 
fashionable gayeties — at least Sib and I don’t. We are the 
victims of an ungrateful country, which refuses to have 
our father for its Prime Minister; and, as it would be be- 
neath our, dignity to stoop lower, we don’t remove to Lei- 
chardt’s Town during the session, and father only rushes 
down when a railway bill comes on. We are the ill-used 
ones of the family, Mr. Wyatt. Mollie had her turn, and 
is tolerably civilized, but I have had no social advantages 
except three months in Sydney and the honor of dancing 
with a wandering earl, and of ‘interchanging a few compli- 
ments with the celebrated personage before mentioned. As 
for Sib, he came out at the Wyeroo race ball, and went in 
again. His ideas of society are so elevated that no sphere, 
except an English one, will content him.” 

Isabel Gauntlett turned toward Sebastian, who was sit- 
ting next her. Many times during the meal his eyes had 
furtively sought her face with an expression of reverential 
admiration, but as yet his conversational efforts had been 
confined to such questions as: Would she take some more 
tea? Did she like scones or bread best? Was she tired 
after her long ride? etc. Sib rarely ventured upon more 
than a sentence at a time. 

“ Have you never been in England?” asked Isabel. 

As she looked at him. Sib thought that he had never 
seen any one so beautiful, and at once so gracious and so 
dignified. He did not, as is usual with many uncultivated 
youths, depreciate the charms of his own sisters, and was 
keenly sensible of Gretta’s prettiness and vivacity, of Mol- 
lie ’s matronly comeliness, and of Hester’s spirituality. He 
shuddered at the thought of their association with anything 
unrefined, and drew a broad line between them and the 
daughters of squatters and Free Selectors on the Eura. 

But even from his sisters Isabel stood apart in Sib’s esti- 
mation as a Madonna from an ordinary woman. She had, 
he thought, a thousand little high-bred graces which they 
did not possess. Her smile, the lily-like droop of her head, 
the manner in which her hair was dressed, the sweep of her 
shoulders, the small daintinesses in her attire, the delicacy 
of her hands, the fineness of her cambric handkerchief, the 


112 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


stamp of fashion upon her ornaments — all these trifles were 
noted by Sib and fllled him with a sort of awe, which was 
at the same time a luxury. 

He was so lost in contemplation of her that she softly re- 
peated her question. There was a buzz of talk all round 
the table. Durnford and Hester conversed in low tones; 
Gretta and Wyatt were in animated conversation; Clephane, 
Mr. Eeay, and Mollie held Hashes cattle under discussion. 
Sib wondered whether Gretta would ever tell Miss Gaunt- 
lett that, for a long time, her photograph hM hung under 
the pedigree of Billy the bull, and determined to remove it 
upon his return to the Selection. 

‘No, Fve never been in England, he said, with his 
nervous bush-laugh. “ Australian born — what you^’d 
call a corn-stalk. 

“ I shouldnT call you a ‘corn-stalk.^ I didnH think 
corn grew here. IsnT it too hot?^^ 

“Oh! Indian corn, maize. Leichardt^s Land natives, 
the white ones, are nicknamed ‘ corn-stalks ^ because they 
are so long and thin. The Sydney ones are ‘ green melons,^ 
and the Tasmanians ‘ gum-suckers.^ 

Isabel gave a Httle laugh. 

“ Why?^' began Sib, and stopped, turning very red. 

“You are all so funny. It will take me a long time to 
learn your expressions and ways of thinking. DonT be 
angry. I like them. 

“ Let me teach you,^^ exclaimed Sib; and added dejected- 
ly: “But it would not be worth learning, and you are 
better as you are.^^ 

A barking of dogs sounded outside, and through the 
open doors there floated a double cooee and the tramp of 
horses^ hoofs. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

A KOMAHCE OF BOHEMIA. 

“ Who is our late visitor? said Mr. Reay. 

“It’s Mr. Ferguson!” cried Jinks, starting up in excite- 
ment from her chair, “ That’s his cooee. He taught me 
how to make it.” She pursed up her small lips, and gave 
forth in answer two long-drawn notes, followed by a short 
staccato call. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


113 


Coo-ee, co5-ee. 

There was a little commotion in the dining-room. Sib 
went into the yard to welcome the new-comer. Hester 
sent out for fresh tea, and Jinks, who had been ordered off 
to bed, put on an expression of the utmost sweetness and 
solemnity: ^ 

‘^If you please, dear grandpa (I^m not talking to you; 
I^’m talking to my gran^’pa), please, dear grandpa, may I 
not stay and hear if Pat is coming? you love good little 
girls, little girls who sit like this;^^ and she placed herself 
bolt upright, and began to twiddle her thumbs in a slow 
demure manner. 

Gretta moved away, and stood silently in the shadow of 
the veranda. 

Presently Sib re-entered, with him Ferguson, in riding 
costume, looking very stalwart, and a little embarrassed, 
but with something in his face which seenied to say that he 
had come for a purpose. 

‘‘ How about the muster, Jim? asked Olephane. ‘‘I 
thought you werehT coming till next week.^^ 

Why,^'^ answered James, we have been drafting close 
here — up at the One-Eyed Waterhole. We got finished 
sooner than I expected. I didnT think of it this morning. 
The rest are camping at the bound ary 'fence; and as we 
brought in a strawberry cow, that I^m sure belongs to your 
milking-herd, Mr. Reay, I thought IM drive her over, and 
ask you to give me a b^. I must start off before breakfast 
to-morrow. 

‘‘All right, said Mr. Reay, “ I^m much obliged. 
YouVe saved Combo a day, by bringing in that strawberry 
cow. Go along to one of the spare rooms and wash your 
hands. If you had been half an hour sooner youM have sat 
down with us. As it is, wefil keep you company from the 
veranda. It^s much too hot for sitting in-doors. Bring out 
the grapes. Jinks, and my tobacco pouch. 

The night was still and clear. It had all the magnetism 
of a dry tropical eve, in which every waft of air seems 
charged with subtle electricity; when soul and body are 
sensitive to. the most delicate impressions; and a look, a 
tone, a perfume, becomes an agent in that mystic world of 
half experiences which is the birthplace of emotions. The 
air was full of strange murmu rings of ephemeral life, of 
soft rustlings, and of rich exotic odors mingling with the 


114 THE HEAD STATIOH. 

more ethereal fragrance of aromatic gum and scrub- 
muntein blooming in the rockery. Now and then, there 
was the dull flop of a frog as it fell from the veranda eaves, 
or the whir of some uncanny insect circling toward the 
lighted door-ways. The moon, not yet at the full, sent filmy 
beams athwart the pathway; and the white pillars of rinka 
sporum, and the tall stakes, entwined by grotesque-limbed 
cacti, looked like radiant ghosts and uncouth goblins. Set 
low in heaven the Southern Cross appeared to touch the 
summit of Oomongin; and high overhead shone Aldebaran, 
Orion, and the Scorpion ^s gemmed tail. Harmless summer 
lightning played round the peaks of Tieryboo, and the 
naked side of Knapp^s Cliff gleamed like silver in the wliite 
light. 

In front of the veranda a broad gravel-walk stretched 
from fence to fence, shaded at each end by orange and 
lemon-trees. In Jhe center lay a heart-shaped flower-bed; 
and beyond, the trellised vinery sloped gently down to a 
chain of tiny water-holes, fringed with swamp-oaks and 
sedgy grass. Hither, on pretense of finding their dessert, 
Gretta and Wyatt wandered. At first the fruit quest was 
sufficiently earnest, one bunch after another rejected, till 
fastidious Gretta announced that she was content; and, 
standing on the lagoon^ s marge, toyed prettily with the 
grapes, which she lifted one by one to her lips. 

Gretta^’s moods were fitful. She had talked with so 
much animation to Wyatt at the close of dinner that their 
intimacy had made rapid strides; but now she seemed to 
have lost her vivacity. They were only a few yards from 
the house, though by reason of the intervening trellis, and 
the slope of the hill, the distance appeared greater, and 
they were completely hidden from view. Mr. Wyatt drew 
from his pocket a cigarette-case, mounted in old silver, 
which had a stamp of costliness and refinement, and asked 
permission to smoke. Gretta nodded silently. She noticed 
the case; cigarettes also were not in vogue on the Eura, and 
she liked the perfume of Wyatt^s weed. Kneehng down, 
she stooped over the lagoon and dipped her fingers. He 
seated himself upon the stump of a felled tree, the trimk 
of which dropped into the water. As he slowly emitted 
thin wreaths of smoke he watched admiringly the graceful 
gestures with which she shook the water from her hands, 
and dried them upon her pocket-handkerchief. Frankly 


THE HEAD STATION. 


115 


unconventional as was Gretta^s manner, it had no lack of 
dignity. He got up, and waited standing till she had 
seated herself lower down upon the tree-trunk. The little 
act of courtesy pleased Gretta. A lightning thought, of 
which the next moment she was ashamed, flashed through 
her mind: “ A Eura bushman wouldnT have done that. 

The voices in the veranda were audible — that of Eerguson 
sonorous and not unmusical, nor definitely colonial; al- 
though the accentuation cf certain syllables, and the 
diminuendo closing a sentence, gave evidence as to nation- 
alitv— then Mr. Reay’s dry tones rising distinctly: 

‘‘And ye know that fellow Bowles? And he jest takes 
the calves from the mother, and keeps them six months, 
and then claps his brand on them. And now I ca^ that na 
mair than cattle-stealing; and it^s not a right thing — at 
least I donT think so.'’^ 

Then Ferguson, with a sad and somewhat impatient ac- 
cent, which moved Gretta to compunction: 

“ Oh, you are right, Mr. Reay. There^s no doubt one 
has to keep a sharp lookout on Free Selectors, especially 
anywhere close to Wyeroo."’"’ 

“ This is very pleasant,'’^ exclaimed Wyatt, removing his 
cigar and breathing a sigh, half melancholy, half compla- 
cent; “ we have chosen the better part. Ik’s more than 
pleasant, he went on, “ iks almost happiness. Do you 
know. Miss Reay, I have a theory that true happiness is 
quite incompatible with emotion. To be happy one ought 
to have arrived at a state of absolute passivity. 

Gretta roused herself. 

“ The ‘ almost ^ is a concession to my vanity, I suppose. 
It would be distressing to think that I had reduced you, so 
soon, to a state of absolute passivity. 

He drew in and expelled another whiff. 

“ For my own part,-’"’ continued Gretta, “ I like sensa- 
tion. I want to see and feel everything. I want to lead 
the life of English people. I want to know what the world 
is, and what it can give me. IM rather be miserable than 
dull.^^ 

“Oh! I too object strongly to dullness. There we are at 
one. And I had better own that if I rail against emotion it 
is because I feel keenly enough to know what reaction 
means. 

Gretta eyed him with candid interest. 


116 


THE HEAD STATION". . 


You haveiiH got to that yet?'^ he said. 

“ I have got to nothing/^ she reiDlied, frankly. ‘‘ I am 
very ignorant of life.^^ 

“ Yet you propose to teach me?^^ 

Only bush ways/'’ she returned. “ I don^t think you 
have any right to call yourself a squatter. She laughed 
softly. ‘ ■ I wonder what you^’d do if you were bushed. I 
am sure you wouldn^t know how to follow down a water- 
shed or guide yourself by the lie of the ridges."’^ 

“ There '’s certainly a monotony in ridges.’^ 

Not to Sib. He'’d know one gum-tree from another 
along a track, and see a difference in every gully. I canT 
imagine you overlanding cattle! And then Siere are quan- 
tities of small things. I doiiT suppose it would ever occur 
to you to blow up a fire with your hat. Jack Clephane 
says thak’s an infallible sign of an Australian squatter. I 
dare say you donH know how to make a damper.^'’ 

‘‘ That I can/^ cried Wyatt, triumphantly, and eat it 
too — a far greater achievement. But I confess that I 
couldnT pass an examination. I bought a station without 
serving my apprenticeship as a new-chum, and I am lucky 
in having such a thorough-going partner as' James Fergu- 
son. He^s a first-rate fellow, isnH he?" 

Yes,^'’ assented Gretta with a slight hesitation. 

Full of pluck and perseverance. I couldnT choose a 
better model, could 

“No!" said Gretta with decision. 

“ But two of us on the same pattern might be a little 
tedious. My conscience pricks me at the present moment. 
Instead of feeling almost happy here, I ought to be one of 
the veranda group improving my mind on the subject of 
Free Selectors. Oh please! DonT force me to leave this 
delicious spot,^^ as she made a movement, “ I am not going 
to begin work till after New-year^s-day. Jim has given 
me a reprieve till then.^^ 

“ I wonder that you came out to Australia, " said Gretta, 
suddenly. “ You don’t like work; every one works here. 
YouTl be very dull. And you must have led a pleasant 
life in England. At least, Mr. Blaize described you as — " 
“ Whirling in the vortex of London society. Yes, I 
know Gustavus’s style. Won’t you give me credit for hav- 
ing, like your brother-in-law, discovered the hollowness of 
civilization and the barrenness of Upper Bohemia?’’ 


THE HEAD STATION. 


117 


“ Upper Bohemia she repeated, vaguely. 

‘‘ That^’s a country with which you are hot acquainted, 
Miss Reay. I know it well, and it represents London to 
me. I lived in it from the time I left Oxford till I came 
out to Australia two years ago. It^s a region of vanity and 
humbug, cheap puffs, tall talk and artistic and literary 
shop, with mediocrity taking the airs of genius, and adver- 
tising itself upon every blank wall and in the sheets of every 
newspaper. ‘ Advertise thyself!’ is the motto in the Old 
World nowadays. Life is nothing but Pears’s Soap. I 
wanted to get away from Pears’s Soap. Don’t tell me that 
Adelina Patti and Mrs. Langtry will gaze at me from the 
outside cover of the ‘ Eura Chronicle. ’ I thought that I’d 
left them behind with the donkey-boys at Port Said. You 
look mystified, Miss Reay. Is it possible that you haven’t 
heard of Pears’s Soap?” 

“ Of course I have, and I know all about Mrs. Langtry 
and the rest of them. But I don’t see what they have to 
do with it all.” 

‘‘No,” he answered, “ but you would if you had lived 
in Bohemia. I am glad that you have not.” 

Why? It seems to me that is just the sort of experi- 
ence I am sighing for. ” 

‘‘ They’d have turned you into a professional beauty, 
and I should perhaps have humbly sued for permission to 
paint your portrait in the hope of advertising myself. ” 

“ Did you paint portraits?” 

‘‘ I have done a good many things. I once exhibited a 
picture in the Grosvenor Gallery. I wrote a play which 
was accepted and acted; and I published a novel that was 
flayed by the critics, and pronounced too improper for the 
circulating libraries.” 

‘‘You wrote a play that was acted!” repeated Gretta. 

“ Is that so wonderful? It was a success into the bar- 
gain.” 

“ Not wonderful that you should have written it, but to 
be successful! to be great! What did you want more?” 

“More!” repeated Wyatt. “Success as a dramatist 
doesn’t necessarily give one love — happiness. These are 
what a man wants out of life. The whole thing sickened 
me. Oh, the wire-pulling, the puppet-dancing, the petty 
rivalry and jealousy, the paint, powder, dirt, and unreality! 
My dear Miss Reay, if you knew as much about actors and 


118 


THE HEAD STATIOif. 


actresses as I do you wouldn^t be astonished that I gave up 
catering for them. They are the death of Art.’^ 

“ Oh, why?"^ exclaimed Gretta. 

‘‘ They all want the middle of the stage, and worry the 
piece like a pack of hungry hounds. No one would write 
plays who hadnT got to earn his living. There^s no satis- 
fying the egregious vanity of a star. You must write him 
a part, and he must have Hamlet, Othello, Eichard the 
Second, and Falstaff, all rolled in one. If Shakespeare 
were to come down from heaven, and offer Othello to a 
manager-star, he wouldnT take it, because lago is too good. ” 
“ Oh!^^ said Gretta again, with the deepest interest. 

“ There must be only one part, and that for himself. 
That^s why Hamlet is so popular. He has five mortal acts 
to rant in all by himself. Now Ell tell you why the ghost 
doesnT appear in the last act. Shakespeare took the part 
himself, and he was going to supper with Lord Bacon, and 
so cut the thing out. There^’s no other earthly reason that 
I can imagine. But iEs very funny to be talking about the 
modern stage on the bank of an Australian lagoon. It 
seems incongruous. Hark! What is that 

‘‘ Iffs the bell-bird,'’^ said Gretta, as a silver tinkle rolled 
across the flat. “ Go on. I like hearifig you talk about 
these things. I didn’t think that you were so clever, and 
such a great person.” 

“ I’m not clever; there’s the mischief of it. I can never 
reach higher than fiippancy. And you can’t listen to shop- 
talk without inventing a shop of your own. It’s a sort of 
epidemic connected with first' nights and private views. 
May I relate my biography in theatrical style? Eor conven- 
ience’ sake, as you are bound to know it sooner or later. I’ll 
condense as much as I can.” 

He had risen, and stood in front of Gretta looking very 
tall, his brown face lowered, his eyes gleaming, a sort of 
subdued impetuosity in his air. He had the knack of 
throwing himself into picturesque attitudes, and presently 
moved a step lower, backing against a gum sapling which 
swayed under his weight, and added to the impression of 
power which in this mood he produced. Gretta’s imagina- 
tion was fired. He seemed to her the stuff out of which 
girls make heroes. 

‘‘ Notwithstanding your sneers. Miss Eeay,” he. began, 
you are forced to own me as a compatriot. I was born 


THE HEAD STATION. 


119 


in New South Wales, and spent the first ten years of my 
life upon a Riverina station. I dare say you know that 
my father lost his life, in the wreck of the ‘Boomerang.^ 
That is an historical wreck. You-ve heard how she struck 
within sight of the lights of home, and all on board went ^ 
down his deep voice trembled a little. “ It’s very pa- 
thetic. My father had gone out to settle up his affairs. 

' My mother had remained with me at home. She never re- 
turned here, and that is how I came to be educated in Eng- 
land. Some years later she married Grandoni the musi- 
cian, and her house is one of the great musical and artistic 
centers in London. Well, to be brief, I left Oxford, and 
took up painting as a quasi-profession, studied in Paris and 
Rome, and might, perhaps, have done something had I had 
the incentive of poverty. I fell in love— disastrously. It 
is not necessary to go into detail. She was an actress. That 
was my play-writing period. She wanted to be advertised. 

I wrote the part for her, and it was a lucky hit. She 
mounted to a higher rung of the ladder leaving me behind. 

I wasn’t rich enough or sufficiently ambitious to please her 
— ^perhaps I wasn’t sufficiently in earnest. At any rate 
that episode turned my views into a practical channel. I had 
got a sickening of dilettanteism. As I don’t come in for 
the best part of my fortune till after my mother’s death, it 
seemed prudent to try and turn to account what money I 
had available. I couldn’t stand harness, and investing in 
Australia seemed under the circumstances the most natural 
thing to do, though it was an odd jump from Bohemia to 
the bush. I came out as I mentioned with Governor Bal- 
dock, and accepted the temporary appointment as private 
secretary to His Excellency. I’m rather a cormorant in 
my craving for experience, and I had a curiosity to see 
something of viceregal life. It was amusing. I could make 
you laugh over some of the curious things which fall in the 
way of a colonial governor’s private secretary.” 

Gretta laughed now, but with a little pique. She thought 
that Wyatt despised the Australians. ^ 

Unfortunately for me the governor had a daughter,” 
he went on. “You will see Miss Baldock in Leichardt’s 
Town, so I’ll make no attempt at describing her. I com- 
mitted the indiscretion of admiring her. We became en- 
gaged. Of course her father disapproved. Grandoni was 
all very well as a performer at St. James’s Hall or at pri- 


120 


THE HEAD STATION. 


vate concerts, but a closer connectionsMp be felt would be 
objectionable. There was a six months^ battle ending in 
my defeat. Miss Baldock broke off the engagement during 
my absence in this colony. 

Gretta uttered a sympathetic ejaculation, ‘‘ Oh, why?^^ 

Wyatt laughed with a good deal of bitterness in his voice, 
“ Why? I can not tell you. We were apart, you know; 
and I was on probation as it were. There was some corre- 
spondence of a restricted kind. You know how women 
write under those circumstances — neither hot nor cold, and 
afraid of committing themselves. Her letters wounded me. 
It was evident that her trust in me had no root, and that 
she feared the future. If I could have gone to her — It 
is so much easier to speak than to write convincingly. Let- 
ters are the deviLs invention for separating lovers. At any 
rate she wrote at last in a curt fashion, and broke it all off. 
And I was too proud to ask questions. I set sail for Eng- 
land as soon as I could. And now IVe quite got over it, 
and am satisfied that it was neither her fault nor mine, but 
a wise dispensation of Providence.’^ 

If,” said Gretta, thoughtfully, ‘‘ you found out now 
that she had loved you all the time, and that there had 
been a misunderstanding?” 

He was silent for a moment or two. “ It is possible, ” 
he said, slowly, ‘‘but not at all probable. I should not 
care to make that discovery. It would be like raking old 
ashes to see if an ember remained. Men’s loves burn 
fiercely while they last, but they don’t live without feeding. 
I have no doubt that by this time Miss Baldock has chosen 
more wisely. I have been singularly unfortunate, have I 
not? — and I had quite intended to make a new beginning. 
I had bought Gundalunda a little while before, as you 
know, in partnership with James Ferguson. My plan was 
to work there for a time, then to leave the management in 
his hands, and, after my marriage, to live in Sydney or 
Melbourne. I don’t think you were up here when I came 
to take delivery?” 

“ I don’t know,” replied Gretta, simply. “ No; I think 
that was my memorable season in Sydney. ” She added, 
after a pause — 

“You will meet her again?” 

“ Not likely; though it Wouldn’t make any difference 
one way or the other. My wounds have been cauterized. 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


121 


They donT smart; only the scars remain, as the poet puts 
, it. I hope I liavenT bored you. I wasn^t sure whether 
you knew the story, and thought it would be easier to tell 
you now than later on, when we might all happen to be to- 
gether in Leichardt^s Town, and you would wonder at my 
not going to Government House. No, Miss Eeay, frankly, ^ 
I donH believe that is in the least my reason for deluging 
you with confidences. I am an egotistic person; I take it 
for granted that every one must feel an interest in me, and 
I was afraid — 

He halted an instant, and smiled ambiguously.. ^ Gretta 
mentally filled in the blank: 

You were afraid that I might fall in love with you,^^ 
and the unspoken words stung like nettles. 

‘‘You looked sympathetic,^’ he continued, “and I was 
afraid that you might withdraw your sympathy if I did not 
show you at once that I needed it.” 

Before Gretta could reply, music sounded from the house, 
and some one began to sing the opening notes of a plaintive 
German serenade. 

“ This was all we wanted to make the night perfec.t,” 
said Wyatt, throwing away the end of his cigar. “ A charm- 
ing voice! Not powerful, but exquisitely trained. I haz- 
ard a guess that it belongs to Miss Gauntlett.” 

“ There is no room for doubt,” said Gretta, moving on 
through the vines. “ Not one of us speaks or sings any 
language but her own.” 

‘‘ That is a delightful specimen of one type of English 
girl,” pursued Wyatt, “ the type one doesn’t find in Lon- 
don — a young lady absolutely unaffected, and yet absolutely 
7 conventional, well bred and well educated, but without a 
spark of originality.” 

“Miss Gamitlett awes me,” said Gretta; “ I am filled 
with wonder and admiration when I look at the dra2>ing of 
her skk-t. There is no doubt that English-cut clothes pro- 
duce a solemnizing effect upon the Australian mind. And 
then her manners are as perfect as her dress. I am sure 
that-, however much our aboriginal customs might jar upon 
her, she would be too well bred to show it, and that painful 
consciousness will add to her sufferings and intensify our 
humiliation. Don’t you think we had better pack her up 
in cotton- wool and send her home again, labeled, ‘ Not cal- 
culated to stand rough usage ’r” 


122 


THE HEAD STATION. 


don^t think you need be alarmed/^ replied AVyatt 
‘‘The poor little girl has probably been kept in leading- 
strings all her life, and is now enjoying the first thrill of 
freedom. She is like a caged bird set loose. If I may 
venture to prophesy, she will become so enamored of liberty 
that shefil end by marrying a rough, bearded squatter on 
the Barcoo, in order to escape from the luxurious dullness 
of Heatherleigh Court. 


CHAPTER XX. 

BITTER-SWEET. 

Fergusoh was pacing the gravel stretch between the 
flower-bed and the veranda, and contributing an occasional 
remark to a discussion between Mr. Reay and Captain Cle- 
phane concerning the turf feats of a certain blood mare, 
which could only be settled by a reference to the Eura 
“ Racing Calendar.^-’ He halted as Gretta and Wyatt ap- 
proached. The latter gave him a careless nod. 

‘‘ You are quite right, old fellow. This sort of thing is 
much better than camping out. I should think. Miss Reay, 
that there must be a good many cattle-camps within con- 
venient reach of Hoondi. You must have had a long day, 
Ferguson. Why do you make a martyr of yourself to-mor- 
row?^^ 

‘ ‘ It^s a difficult beat. They couldnT get on without me. 

“ Oh, that is one of the delusions one shakes off with 
years. ‘ They ^ always get on very well without one at a 
pinch. But it is not for me to make cynical remarks. 
Your energy throws my laziness into unpleasant relief. 
However, as I know neither the country nor the cattle, I 
donT suppose that I could be of any real assistance to-mor- 
row.^^ 

“ No,^^ replied Ferguson, “ we are not short of hands. 
And youTl like stopping here.-’^ Unconsciously he cast a 
wistful glance at Gretta. “ Nothing short of urgency on 
the part of butchers justifies one in collecting a mob at this 
time of year. 

“ Oh,^^ said Gretta, in her soft mocking way, “ butchers 
are the arbiters of Fate for us. Our livelihood, our happi- 
ness, depend upon butchers. One would gladly risk a sun- 
stroke rather than send a butcher away unsatisfied. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


123 


The music had ceased a few minutes ago. Wyatt passed 
into the parlor, where Isabel stood uncertainly by the piano, 
while Mollie sat with her work-basket on her lap; and Sib, 
a book upon his knees, longed that- Isabel would play 
again, but dared not ask her. 

Wyatt did so instead. He was passionately fond of 
music, and, moreover, possessed a fine tenor voice. He 
had been wondering who would play his accompaniments. 
Isabels touch was extremely sympathetic. Gretta moved 
on a few steps with Ferguson. She stooped over the flower- 
bed and gathered a sprig of scented verbena, which she 
crushed between her hands, and delicately raised to her 
nostrils. Her pulse quickened a little as she glanced up at 
her companion. The expression of his face prepared her 
for an ebullition of feeling. There was something dramatic 
in the situation which frightened while it excited her. 
Gretta was a flirt. The trees and vines in the Doondi gar- 
den might, could they but speak, have described some curi- 
ous love-scenes, but there are limits to flirtation, and 
Gretta^s relations with James Ferguson had passed beyond 
those limits. He had been a part of her life, a background 
to her dreams, never anything more than a background, 
but always there between herself and the far-distant future. 
Kow it was as though he had stepped out of perspective, 
and insistently obtruded himself upon her notice. There 
was something odd and incongruous in the position, quite 
at variance with her idea of kind, handsome, steadfast 
James, always tolerant of her humors, never swerving in 
his admiration, patiently waiting her pleasure, whose devo- 
tion had been a pleasant stimulant to existence, without 
causing any after reaction or disagreeable sense of humilia- 
tion. 

A strange little tremor came dver her. She made a 
movement as though she were about to re-enter the house. 
His pleading voice arrested her. 

DonT go in, Gretta. It seems such a long time since 
I have seen you. I was afraid you didnT mean to speak to 
me this evening. 

I have been making acquaintance with your partner. 
It was very nice of you to send him over. He has a fine 
flavor of European culture. I feel improved already. 
Doondi has been like a stagnant pool. It^s time something 
happened. If it hadn't been for water-melons and the 


124 


THE HEAD STATION. 


thought of our Christmas gayeties I must have succumbed. 
You are all coming over next week, Aunt Judith and the 
rest. Vve all sorts of plans in my head; Ihn going to give 
the blacks a treat. Do let us have a good time and begin 
the New Year cheerfully. Do you know, Mr. Ferguson, I 
have a presentiment that it is going to be a particularly 
eventful year: 

She spoke hurriedly, and ended with a pretty, embar- 
rassed laugh, as though there were some deeper meaning 
behind her light words. Ferguson^s eyes met hers eagerly. 

“ AVhen did you first feel your presentiment, Gretta? 
Last time that I was here I remember you boasted that of 
two weaknesses you were entirely free — and they were 
superstition and sentiment. 

‘‘ So I am — in a general way; but this evening I could 
swallow a ghost or shed tears over poetry. It’s the elec- 
tricity in the atmosphere. ” 

At that moment Hester and Mr. Durnford emerged from 
the shadow of the orange-trees, where they had been sitting. 
They were not talking. There was a feeling of restraint 
upon them, and their tete-a-tete had not been entirely 
rapturous. As yet the world of love was new to them, and 
they were timid — he of uttering a word whicli might imply 
unknightly advantage of her surrender, and she, fearful of 
this new joy, with which a vague sense of guilt and terror 
blended, fearful lest look or gesture might shadow the 
White Ideal which he sung. 

They would have passed silently into the house — out of 
the dim crowd of formless desires and inarticulate thoughts 
which seemed to haunt the darkness, into the light, the 
music, the homely talk — but Gretta turning, and struck by 
something in their look which chimed with her mood, ad- 
dressed the poet inconsequently. 

Mr. Durnford, you write a great deal about our affinity 
with Nature, magnetic thrills, et cetera. Tell me, isn’t this 
a night for sympathies, weird infiuences, presentiments, 
and all the thing you poets make such a fuss about? I 
begin to believe in the unseen a little bit. There are times 
when unrealities seem the realities of life. You don’t hap- 
pen to have a divining-glass handy? What’s the most 
tragical thing that could happen to us? Pleuro-pneumonia 
among the cattle? Alas, Billy the bull has been a victim 
already. A horde of Free Selectors? A passionate attach- 


THE HEAD STATION. ‘ 125 

ment — stark, hopeless, and magnificent? ^Ye are all too 
commonplace for anything so romantic, except, perhaps, 
Hester, Mr. Gustavus Blaize, and you.^^ Gretta paused in 
confusion, suspecting that she had made an unfortunate 
remark. Durnford laughed awkwardly, and declared that 
it was cruel of her to make him profess mysticism as well ^ 
as poetry. Surely he had endured chaff enough! and 
Gretta suddenly changed her tone. 

“ Hester, you look as white as a ghost, yourself. Is it 
the moonlight? And you are shivering with the thermom- 
eter at 95®!^^ 

‘‘ I think that I am aguish, faltered Hester. ‘‘ I will 
goin.'’^ 

“ Mrs. Murgatroyd has not yet got over the effect of her 
damp walk!^^ said Durnford. 

By the way!^^ exclaimed Gretta, “you never told us 
where you took shelter that day. Was it in the old shep- 
herd^s hut?^^ 

“No, it \ras Hester began and halted, shrinking 

from the mention of that sanctified spot which she dreaded 
revealing to profane curiosity. 

‘ ‘ I have discovered several eyries in the rocks near Point 
Eow,^'’ interposed Durnford. “ I always like perching ni}^- 
self above the world when I want to read anything stiff. If 
you have any desire to turn hermit. Miss Gretta, 1^11 engage 
to place two or three caves at your service. 

“ That would be more in your line than mine,^^ retorted 
Gretta; “ I have no intention of renouncing worldly vani- 
ties. You are going as he held out his hand. 

“ I have some work to do in order to keep pace with the 
boys to-morrow — exercises to correct. This is unusual dis- 
sipation for me. Good-night, Mr. Ferguson.^-’ 

“ I hope you intend to be more- sociable during the 
Christmas holidays, said Gretta. “ DonT let Miss 
Gauntlett stop playing, Hester. I am going to stay out of 
doors a little longer, and meditate upon my presentiment. 
Life wasnT meant to be dragged out between four walls on 
such a stifling night as this.-’^ 

She turned down the trellised path. Ferguson followed 
her. Durnford and Hester were left alone. 

“You are ill?’^ he questioned, anxiously. 

“No; I only feel strange — as if I were in a dream. 


126 


THE HEAD STATION. 


“ Tell me that you are happy. What would be the use 
of anything if I had made you sorrowful 

“ Yes, Tm haj)py. But I know that it is a dream. 
There seems something false. It^s bitter-sweet.^^ 

His eyes pierced her soul. 

‘‘ Oh!"^ she cried, what have I said? I wound you.^^ 

‘‘ Truth before all!^^ he exclaimed. 

You say that?^^ she returned in a peculiar tone. 

I do say it — with the strength of "all my convictions. 
We stand upon a mountain while we are true to each other. 
God is above us — the world below. Bitter-sweet!^^ he went 
on vehemently. “ Did I not know that? It was why, for 
your sake, I meant to leave you. Did I not know that soul 
and body would be in perpetual agonizing strife? There 
the falseness. ^ 

“ Yes, she said, wearily; that is it. There^s always 
a struggle — the position is false. 

“ To me that is nothing, he exclaimed. ‘‘ Love should 
transcend it; I’ve thought the matter out and faced the 
penalty — as a man can; a woman’s different, You only 
feel it like a dumb animal or a child in darkness. If it’s 
too hard for you we’ll part. ” 

‘‘ Part! No, oh no! I could not bear it. You are 
noble; you see the stars; I will try to remember: God 
above — the world below us.” 

‘‘ Then you decide? I will not leave you!” he cried, 
passionately. ‘‘ You will meet me at the cave to-morrow? 
I saw that my evasion jarred upon you. Consider; it is 
our refuge from the world — it should be sacred. Do you 
know that I spent yesterday afternoon in exploring, and I 
have found a much easier ascent. Dream sweetly, my Hes- 
ter. Think of the hour of happiness which will be ours 
to-morrow. You have been silent, oppressed to-night. 
These shadows will vanish away. I have so much to hear 
— so much to tell you. You fill me with high, pure 
thoughts. You teach me to understand myself. You ex- 
plain the fevered dreams which have made my life kaleido- 
scopic. Through you I reach eternity. Good-night — till 
to-morrow.” 

‘‘Till to-morrow,” she echoed; and he left her. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


127 


CHAPTER XXL 

FOR GLAHCE OF THIHE A WORLD/^ 

Down by the lagoon Gretta and Ferguson were sitting. 
Not at the spot where Bertram Wyatt had told his story a 
little while before. Gretta, moved by an impulse which 
she would have been at a loss to analyze, turned away from 
this natural halting-place; and the two strolled on to the 
very verge of the garden, where a palisade covered with 
prickly pear divided it from the home-paddock. 

The unshapely leaves and twisted limbs of the cactus rose 
high — an effectual rampart against the cattle and horses 
congregated round the water-hole. Here the larger lagoon 
widened, and, unshadowed by sheoaks, it formed the fore- 
ground to an extensive tract of plain studded by gaunt dead 
gums, tiers of forest wolds, and beyond, the fortress-like 
summit of Comongin. 

Gretta ^s eyes rested affectionately upon this familiar feat- 
ure of the landscape. 

“I wonder,-’ ■’ she said, suddenly, ‘‘whether I should 
miss old Comongin much if I were to go away from here 
forever? Somehow, he seems to belong to me, and I 
should feel it a kind of treason to forget him. I think that 
I like him better than anything else upon the Eura. 

They were sitting upon a rustic bench — a sl^ laid across 
two stumps. Overhead, a ti-tree spread its gnarled branches 
and dipped its bottlebrush-blossoms into the glassy water. 
It was very still, except for the whirring of insects about 
them, the faint sound of voices and music from the house, 
and an occasional plash or stealthy gliding under the lily 
leaves, which told of the movement of some reptile — and 
Ferguson’s warning against snakes, as they sat down, was 
not unnecessary. 

“ Why do you talk like that?” he asked with emphasis. 

“ I don’t understand. How?” 

“ You seem full of ideas. Fate — presentiments — agoing 
away.” 

“ It isn’t reasonable to suppose that I’m going to spend 
my whole existence on the Eura. I don’t know what puts 
going away into my head to-night. It’s my mood. ’ 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


l^S 

“You aren^t usually given to moods. I always find you 
the same. 

“ Oh, that sounds very monotonous. What am I like in 
my normal condition, James 

“ Clever, bright, capable, getting at the heart of every- 
thing, and being gay and agreeable in so unconscious a way 
that it would be impossible to imagine you taking life 
seriously — 

“ Oh, you don’t know me in the least,” she interrupted. 

“ I was going to say: if one hadn’t an intuitive feeling 
that there was a great deal more under the surface. ” 

“ That’s true; but you have only told me good things; 
now the bad points. ” 

“ I don’t think that there is anything specially bad about 
you,” he said, slowly; “ and if there were I shouldn’t be 
the one to find it out.” 

She waived the latter j)art of his remark. 

“ That’s just it!” she cried. “I’m not specially good 
nor specially bad. I’m curious about the world. I want 
to have experiences. I want to be quite sure what is the 
first-best thing in life before I drop down to the second or 
third-best. Do you see, James?” 

“ Yes,” he answered sadly, “ I see.” 

“ If I tell you a secret, you mustn’t ever bring it up 
against me,” continued Gretta. “ It is that I am very im- 
pressionable down to a certain de^^th. The outside of me 
is soft — the inside is granite. I’m very fond of excitement 
and the sense of power. If I can’t get excitement out of 
big things, as I should like to do, I take it out of small 
ones, and despise myself for my pains.” 

“ One wouldn’t think you took pains,” he said. “ If 
that were so your power would be less. It’s your uncon- 
sciousness. You don’t even seem to see that you are giv- 
ing pain, and you often do, and, I think, know it. But 
that’s a part of you, and I don’t mind it — if you weren’t a 
little heartless you wouldn’t be Gretta Reay.” 

Gretta moved slightly; she had been leaning forward, her 
chin upon her hands. 

“ This is very interesting; I like being analyzed. But 
it’s rather hard of you to insinuate that my unconsciousness 
is a sham. I do not hurt people willfully. I’m not bad 
enough for that. If they put themselves in my way and 


THE HEAD STATION. 129 

expect from me what I have not to give, is it my fault that 
they are disappointed?"" 

He did not answer. She went on impetuously. 

“ You are all so narrow in your ideas. You speak and 
act as though the Eura district were the only place in the 
- universe, and Gretta Reay the most important person in 
it."" 

‘‘I have no doubt,"" returned Ferguson, “that if the 
Eura squatters could realize that the world is wide, and con- 
tains millions of charming young women, they would bear 
their disappointment more philosophically. But it is hard 
to be philosophical under some circumstances, and I"m 
jready to admit that bushmen are not imaginative. They 
don"t see further than their horizon."" 

Gretta altered her position, and drew further back against 
the ti-tree. 

“ I remember, long ago, when we first came here,"" she 
said, thoughtfully. “ I was nine years old, but dreadfully 
ignorant, and much more fanciful than I am now. I used 
to fancy that the world lay just on the other side of the 
mountains — the world of story-books — and that if I could 
only get round Comongin all sorts of things would happen 
to me; and I should think and feel quite differently — life 
would be altogether more vivid. I have that fancy still 
sometimes. "" 

“ Gretta,"" said Ferguson, stolidly, “ it isn"t you, your- 
self — your goings and comings, the place of your abode, the 
sights you see — which will make that world a reality to you. 
It"s only love which can do that; and the man who succeeds 
in making you care for him will open the door for you."" 

“ I dare say you are right,"" she answered, “ but how did 
you arrive at that conclusion? I didn"t know that you 
thought of such things. "" 

“I only think of them when I think of you,"" he an- 
swered simply. 

“ I hope that you don"t class me as one of those morbid- 
minded girls one reads of— always hungering after emotion. 
I suppose there"s a sort of fascination in the idea of being 
in love. I think so till I reason about it — then I hate it. " " 

“ Why should you hate it?"" he asked, quietly. 

“ It would be bondage. I couldn"t be a slave. And 
then the feverishness of it — ^hot and cold fits; burning and 
shivering; one"s heart on fire; and, after all, a handful of 


130 


THE HEAD 'STATIOH. 


cinders left. A tragedy! In books, that kind of thing 
always ends in tragedy. You can^’t fit a magnificent pas- 
sion on to sober married life — such as people would live on 
the Eura.'’^ 

‘‘ I think that tragedies and magnificent passions are 
possible even on the Eura.^^ 

“No, no, James, never! Tragic heroes donT wear mole-- 
skins and cabbage-tree hats. You couldnT imagine a 
hero patching his saddle and smoking store-tobacco, or a 
heroine serving out rations to the hands or stirring pie- 
melon jam. By the way, do you like it flavored with 
essence, of lemon or ginger? You can have your choice/"’ 

“ Tell me your idea of a hero, Gretta?'’^ 

“ He must be caviare to the general, she replied, prompt- 
ly; “a figure of speech which is applicable in more ways 
than one. We don’t often get such luxuries on the Eura 
— and how unpopular he would be in the district!” she 
laughed softly. “ Of course, he must be a product of 
civilization, handsome, world-worn, a little oppressed by 
the number and variety of his experiences. In fact, he 
ought to excite one’s curiosity besides rousing one’s admira- 
tion. He should have stretched-out feelers in all directions; 
and should have fine ideas about art, as well as all the man- 
ly graces, and most of the manly virtues.” 

“ Your description makes me think of Bertram Wyatt,” 
said Ferguson; “ I don’t know why, unless it is that he is 
artistic, and certainly the product of civilization.” 

Gretta flamed out, 

“You are quite mistaken. Do you suppose that I meant 
to be understood literally? Your remark proves at least 
that bushmen have no imagination. My hero was up in 
the air — the sum total of -the last set of novels you lent 
me.” 


Eerguson received her rebuke meekly: 

“ I beg your pardon. It was natural my thoughts should 
turn to Wyatt.” 

There was a note of suppressed anxiety in his voice. He 
seemed about to say more, but checked timself. The vague 
uneasiness to which he had been a prey ever since his arrival 
could hardly be termed jealousy. It had occurred to him 
long ago that Gretta’s anti-colonial prejudices would pre- 
dispose her toward his partner; but he believed, upon 
Wyatt’s own assertion, that the latter’s heart was entirely 


THE HEAD STATIOi^. 


131 


given to Miss Baldock, and that he lived in the hope of 
again meeting her and renewing their engagement, for the 
rupture of which he held her father responsible. Fergu- 
son^S' opinion might have become modified had he been a 
listener to Wyatt^s tentative confidences by the lagoon; 
but, even so, it would have been difficult for him to con- 
ceive that such affection as Wyatt had professed could waver 
so rapidly. Scorn of pettiness, and a sentiment of loyalty, 
barred his lips against detraction of a possible rival; but the 
triumphant thought, ‘‘He is weak and I am strong, 
flashed through him and gave him courage. 

Gretta noticed his preoccupied air, and partially divined 
what was passing through his mind. She felt within her- 
self an embarrassing consciousness that forced her into a 
curious sympathy with his mood. She stole a look at his 
averted face, and was struck by its frank fearlessness. He 
sighed, drawing himself up as if with new determination; 
and she was moved by an impulse almost of tenderness : 

“ HoiFt let us talk any more in this stupid fashion. And 
you look so serious. Have you ridden far? Are you 
tired ?^^ 

“ Yes,^^ he answered to her last question, “ not with my 
day^s riding, but with the burden of hope deferred. 

“ Ah! now, James, you are talking like a hero.^^ 

“ Gretta, said the young man, passionately, “don^t 
mock at me. I am in deadly earnest. What are we all 
living and longing for but happiness? And happiness is 
love! You think that there can be no romance on a cattle- 
station. You are looking for it beyond Oomongin. And it 
is here — at your side. I understand you, Gretta. I love 
you, and I mean to try and make you love me. 

“ You said something like this once before, James, and 
I begged you not. 

“ You bade me wait, and I have waited. Ifll wait longer 
— years if you choose. But something has been tearing at 
me all day. I felt that I must see you and tell you all that 
was in my heart. I, too, have had a presentiment. 

“ Tell me about it, James. 

“ It came with a dream I had last night. I often dream 
of you, Gretta. I feel your hand in mine. I see you smil- 
ing at me. You are always sweet and kind in my dreams. 
It is hard to believe when I awake that you donT care for 
me. I will not believe it.'’^ 


132 


THE HEAD STATIOE". 


“ Tell me your dream/'’ she questioned softly. 

“ I thought we were standing on the deck of a ship. I 
held you close to me. I knew that we were very happy, 
and that somehow you belonged to me. The sea was so 
blue; there were tiny wavelets flecked with foam; and the 
air was fresh> and a little cold, just as it is here in the early 
spring mornings. On one side of us there was a long line 
of lovely coast; blue hills, some in shadow, some bare and 
glistening; a gray road, winding beneath rocky precipices, 
with curious round pines here and there; or the ruins of 
some old castle perched upon an overhanging clifl. Oh! it 
was like nothing we have ever seen. Down by the shore 
there were villages and gardens, quaint bridges, and rivers 
winding down from the hills. And then, far off, there r^se 
snow-clad peaks like thrones in heaven; and the light of 
the rising Sun upon them seemed God’s glory resting there. 
It was Itoly, Gretta — I seemed instinctively to know that, 
and the sun was rising for us over a new world. ” 

Gretta leaned forward again; her eyes bright, her parted 
lips- trembling. His vivid word-painting had carried her 
away. 

“ Italy!” she repeated, and you saw all this? It must 
have been beautiful, James.” 

‘‘ It was beautiful, because you were beside me,” Fergu- 
son went on, kindling with the eloquence of love; a new 
world for you and for me — but old — old as histdry, and 
full of the romance you long for. Gretta, will you come? 
AVill you marry me? and see with me all that we’ve read 
and dreamed of — then come back to old Comongin and the 
Eura? Oh, Gretta! I am not the sort of hero you painted. 
I’m a rough Australian; and all that I know of life in 
Europe, of art, and of romance — except the romance of 
loving you, and that seems to me the noblest and loveliest 
on earth — I’ve learned from books. But perhaps I know 
as much as most fellows of all that’s worth knowing; and 
perhaps I’m all the better and truer for not being the prod- 
uct of civilization. It seems to .me that there’s a kind of 
chivalry which can be practiced in the bush here better than 
in great cities — the chivalry Tennyson writes about — the 
knighthood that isn’t earned by sauntering through life in 
a graceful, smiling way with your heart in your hand, but 
in simplicity and faith, by love of one woman and reverence 
of all women for her sake. It may sound high-flown and 


THE HEAD STATION. 


133 


absurd, but that^s how 1 feel in my love for you. It wakes 
up all the religion and enthusiasm that^s in me.’’^ 

At the moment the young liian^s face seemed transfigured; 
his fine eyes glowed; his voice quivered with earnestness. 
Gretta^s being was stirred. For a second its depths had 
been reached. The influence' of the hour wrought upon 
her; the music sounding at intervals — weird bits of Chopin, 
snatches from Beethoven^s sonatas, wild, strong and with a 
burden so human and yearning, that every note chimed 
with the lover's pleading; the dim distance of plain and 
forest, the soft lapping of the water, as the ti-tree branches 
dipped deeper under their weight; the heavy perfume of 
datura flowers, the throbbing life which lurked beneath 
every leaf, and seemed to pulse with theirs. 

Involuntarily, Gretta held forth her hands. They were 
clasped in his. 

‘‘ Jem," she said in a shaken voice, “ it is beautiful. It 
would be beautiful — if — if only I loved you." 

‘‘ I've thought of that, Gretta. I'm not afraid if you'll 
trust me, and trust yourself. I know it's a received notion, 
a sort of canon of romance, that love should be a magnetic 
affinity, and that the passion should be equal on both sides. 
That isn 't my idea. It doesn't seem to me natural that a 
gentle, innocent girl like you should have the almost un- 
controllable feelings which tell a man that there's but one 
woman in the world for him. Burnford expresses what I 
mean in one of his poems. It's the lover's fiery all-em- 
bracing love which melts the woman's heart, and, by de- 
grees, draws it into union with his own. I Tenow/^ he ex- 
claimed, vehemently, “ that if we were married, if even we 
.were engaged, after a little time you wouldn't hesitate to 
own that you loved me. Gretta, wouldn't it be so?" 

It might be so," murmured Gretta, dreamily; “ you're 
very strong, Jem, stronger than I thought. Perhaps you 
could do it. You lift me off my feet — almost." 

The words fell brokenly. Gretta's impulses were at war. 
To yield would be sweet. And yet — A woman's instinct 
is truer than a man's logic. Silence followed, which 
wrapped them round, and, as it were, placed them in a 
shadowy circle, over which winged thoughts hovered. The 
music had ceased and the voices in the veranda died down 
to a murmur. Suddenly, a few brilliant chords resounded. 
Some one began to sing. The sense of solitude was no 


134 


THE HEAD STATION". 


more. It was a many’s voice — Wyatt’s — a tenor, rich and 
cultivated, and there was a trick about the song, an absence 
of rhyme and irregularity of ' stanza, a lawlessness and en- 
train which made it thrill Gretta’s ears like no other song 
she had ever heard. 

‘‘Then come to me, come to me altogether,” uttered 
Ferguson, at the white heat of his longing. 

He rose from the slab, still holding her hands, and draw- 
ing her upward. For an instant Gretta swayed toward 
him. It was a moment of crisis. Was it the voice of her 
lover, or that of the singer which she obeyed? 

“ For glance of thine, a world, 

For smile of thine, a heaven, 

For kigs of thine — ” 

Passion broke the strain. 

“ For kiss of thine — ” 

And then, from wooing tenderness the tones swelled as if 
in ecstasy. 

“ I know not 

What I would give for a kiss.” 

Gretta wrenched her hands from Ferguson’s grasp. 

“ No, no!” she cried, “ I can hot. I have been cruel. 
I have deceived you. I deceived myself for a few mo- 
ments. I can not love you. It was wicked for me to 
promise.” 

She darted from him through the vines, and Ferguson 
stood alone by the lagoon. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

GOOD-BYE, GRETTA. 

At Doondi-no one slept much after daybreak. 

First there was the roaring of the cattle imprisoned in the 
stock-yard. It had indeed gone on without intermission all 
night, but seemed to intensify at dawn. Then cameThe 
loud , cracking of the stock-whip, with which Mr. Reay awoke 
the station-hands. He himself was always first out, and 
prided himself upon the amount of gardening, beef-salting, 
or such other work as was peculiar to the head-station. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


135 


which he accomplished before breakfast. Meanwhile the 
laughing jackasses had started their chorus, and all the 
small birds were twittering. The dogs were on the alert, 
and black boys^ voices might be heard. Now, more crack- 
ing of whips, a stampede of horses on their way to the yards, 
and the lowing of milkers being fetched up from the pad- 
dock, and presently, the clatter of zinc pails which the boys 
' were taking from the dairy to the stock-yard. 

This was Gretta^s signal. To-day, as she came out of 
her bedroom, and stood in the fresh morning light, it might 
■ have been evident to any one who cared to notice her face 
that she had passed a sleepless night. She looked pale and 
her eyes were heavy, and the lids reddened. But she would 
not admit to herself that it was anything except the intense 
heat, which made her languid and nerveless. 

The early hours gave pitiless warning of glare and dis- 
comfort. No dew had fallen during the night. A blue 
haze clung to the mountains, telling of distant bushfires. 
The red blossoms of a pomegranate-tree offended the eye, 
and already the more tender flowers drooped. 

Gretta stepped down from the veranda into the little 
court-yard where Mr. Reay was tying up a straggling 
creeper. 

‘‘ Good morning, Gretta, he called out; 1 was coming 
to look after you. YouTe late this morning; and you^ll 
have a job with the butter. Jack Clephane has gone off to 
Tieryboo in a fright lest the fires should get at his fences. 
Do you see them over Doonbah way:^^ 

Yes, father,'’’ said Gretta, listlessly, and passed on to 
the steps, at the foot of which Maafu was standing with a 
pail of clear water that he had drawn from the water-bag. 

‘‘ Take it down to the dairy, Maafu,” said Gretta, halt- 
ing by the wicket — a pretty object in her blue cotton-gown 
and big apron, which partly concealed and partly drew at- 
tention to her slender form. She was gazing in the direc- 
tion of the stock-yard, trying to identify the coatless figures 
passing to and fro outside the great posts and battens. 
Among them she discerned that of Ferguson. He had not 
gone then. Glancing toward the veranda, she saw his saddle 
hanging over the rails, and his valise, unstrapped, beside 
it. The color flamed in Gretta ’s cheeks. He was coming 
down from the yard, leading his horse. She flew across to 
the dairy as he, seeing her, began to quicken his steps. 


136 


THE HEAD STATION. 


Through the cheese-cloth which covered the little window 
she furtively watched him saddle his horse and buckle on 
the valise. He bade Mr. Reay good-bye, then, still leading 
his horse, walked down to the bark-roofed hut, where 
Gretta stood making -believe to be very busy with her milk- 
pans. Having fastened his bridle to the veranda-post he 
entered. He looked pale, too, under his sunburn, and worn 
— but his mouth was determined. 

“ IVe come to bid you good-bye/^ he said, and I have 
a few words to say to you, Gretta, before I start, if you 
donH mind. Would you rather I didn^t come over at Christ- 
mas, as we had arranged 

‘‘ Oh, James she exclaimed, putting down the skimmer 
with which she had been operating, ‘°we are going to be 
friends still, aren^t we?'^ 

‘‘We are going to be friends forever, I hope — no matter 
what happens. But I didnT know quite what you felt 
about last night, or whether you mightnT wish me out of 
your sight for a little while. Of course IT do exactly as 
you wish, though I donT see that it need make any differ- 
ence.'’^ 

“ No difference at all, James, if you^ll put it out of your 
head and not be angry with me.'’^ 

“ I couldnT be angry with you, Gretta, under any cir- 
cumstances. But for the other — that’s just what I want 
to say to you. I can’t consider myself beaten, and I don’t 
mean to give you up — I love you far too well. ” 

He waited as if for a word from her, but she said nothing. 
He went on, 

“ I dare say you think me unmanly and conceited for my 
pertinacity. It doesn’t matter. That won’t alter me. I 
know you like me a little bit or you would not look at me in 
the way you sometimes do. You wouldn’t have put your ' 
hand in mine as you did last night — ” 

“ James,” interrupted Gretta, “ I’ll tell you the truth. 
You mustn’t place any dependence upon my manner. I 
can’t help wishing people to like me, and liking them till 
they go too far. lam horribly impulsive; and, as I said 
last night. I’m impressionable to a certain point. Some- 
times I have fancied — last night for instance — that you had 
dragged me past it. But the feeling never lasts. I’m not 
worth caring for. I’m a weak, heartless creature.” 


THE HEAD STATION. 


137 


“ You are not heartless, Gretta; and, please God, Fll 
prove it,^^ said Ferguson, solemnly. 

“I don’t believe any person would ever satisfy me,”^ 
continued Gretta; “ it’s a dreadful confession, but it’s 
true. ” 

“ How can you tell?” 

‘‘ Oh, I often try to analyze myself. That’s how I em- 
ploy my mind when I am skimming the cream and turning 
the churn-handle. If I were married I suppose that my 
husband would want the whole of me. It would be im- 
possible for us to touch at all points, especially if he were 
a squatter. I hate cattle. I should be putting feelers out 
in another direction. I’m very diffusive. I can’t bottle 
up my impressions. If one person doesn’t give me sym- 
pathy I must get it from another. Sometimes you draw out 
one bit of me, and then I think you might make me happy. 
The next day another side of my nature is uppermost, and 
you are — nowhere. In fact I’m as unreasonable as the cat 
in ^ Andersen’s Tales. ’ I expect every one to purr and 
give out sparks. I have no doubt I shall learn in time that 
it isn’t actually necessary to happiness for your companions 
to be always purring and giving out sparks. But I haven’t 
learned the lesson yet. Do you understand? I want to see 
the world. I dare say that afterward I may be contented 
to settle down on the Eura. ” 

‘‘ I will show you the world. We will see it together.” 

‘‘ I spoke figuratively, James. I don’t mean traveling 
from one country to another — at least, not entirely. But 
we can not see the world in my way without making an ex- 
periment which might prove a failure.” 

‘‘ I will -wait till you have made your experiment,” said 
Ferguson. 

And have come back ready to put up with the second- 
best,” rejoined Gretta, her mind reverting to the episode of 
the previous evening. 

“ Ah!” said Ferguson, his eye brightening, ‘‘ I feel that, 
under the circumstances, with time and opportunity, I 
should be capable of taking the first place. Come to me 
after months, years, say to me ^ Jem, I have made a mess 
of my experiment, and I am obliged to fall back upon 
you.’ Just see, then, whether I should shrink from being 
your second-best!” 

Gretta took up the skimmer again, and, slipping it be- 


138 


THE HEAD STATION. 


neath the clotted surface, dexterously separated cream from 
thick milk, and dropped the former into an earthen bowl 
by her side. 

“ Jem,^^ she said, seriously, ‘‘ you must give me up. 

“ No, Gretta,^^ he replied with equal gravity, “ 1^11 never 
do that while you are unmarried. But Til put a curb upon 
myself, and you shall be troubled no more — not for a long 
time, at all events — by any expression of my feelings. 1^11 
wait and watch, and we will be brother and sister as W'e 
have always been.^^ 

Gretta frankly put her hand in his for a moment. 

Yes, Jem, brother and sister, and nothing else. Re- 
member, IVe told you to give it up. If I haven ^t been 
quite loyal to you, forgive me. It^s a little hard for a girl 
like me to keep from flirting. The bush is dull, you know, 
and I never was staid like Mollie. I always wanted to have 
a good time, and to make cake out of my bread. Youfll 
not remind me of yesterday evening, will you? I want to 
forget it. I was sorry — ^yes — Ifll own it. I lay awake last 
night crying, and thinking that there is something con- 
temptible in letting men make love to me — getting what 
fun I can out of them, and then turning them away. 

I donT think any of them bear me any grudge, though,'’^ 
she added, lightly, not even Old Gold.^^ 

“ It^s that unconscious way you have, Gretta. I said so 
before. You donT seem to know when you are hurting ^ 
people. You never seem to be aware of it, when you are 
doing a thing that is not conventional.^^ 

‘‘You canT take Mrs. Grundy out riding with you, 
James. She would be out of place on the Eura.’’’’ 

“ No,'’^ James hesitated for a moment — “ but I think it 
would be better, Gretta, if you didnT sit out alone in the 
evening with fellows, down by the lagoon, as you do.^^ 

“ Jem,^^ said Gretta, solemnly, “if I were to try and 
count upon my fingers how many men had proposed to me 
down by the lagoon I could nT do it.'’^ 

She passed on to another of the tin pans, and, drawing 
off its muslin covering, poured some water from Maafu’s 
pail upon a shapeless curd-like mass of butter, yesterday ^s 
churning. She rolled up her sleeves, and looked down in 
perplexity at her hands, then up at the door-way,* which a 
figure darkened. It was Bertram Wyatt. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


139 


“ Good morning, Miss Reay. You see I have begun my 
training by getting up with the sun/-’ 

‘‘ Then you have been a long time dressing/’ said Gretta, 
“ for the sun rose more than an hour ago.’-’ 

Oh, I’ve had a swim in the creek, and I stopped for a 
patter with the blacks. There’s a romance down at the 
camp. One Pompo, a most gay and gallant nigger, has 
eloped with a bride from over the border, who, being a 
Haggi — and he a Hippi — isn’t that it. Miss Reay? — ^has been 
forbidden him by his tribe. He is the hero of the hour, and 
the dusky pair are enjoying their honey-moon, worrying a 
kangaroo-tail and defying fate. Mrs. Pompo says that her 
lord is a ‘ budgery benjamin,’ and he declares that he 
wouldn’t exchange her for a White Mary. I wonder how 
long it will be before he hits her over the head with a 
waddy?’ ’ 

Gretta laughed, but still looked at her hands. 

‘‘Mr. Wyatt,” she exclaimed, “I want to scald my 
fingers. Perhaps you don’t know that half the art of but- 
ter-making is to dip your hands first into very hot water 
and then into cold. As you are a man and a brother go 
over to the kitchen and fill me this dipper out of the ket- 
tle.” 

Wyatt took the tin utensil which she held out to him 
and moved to do her bidding. 

“ I don’t suppose,” observed Gretta, thoughtfully, 
“ that he is accustomed to being sent by girls to the kitchen 
for a dipperful of water. ” 

“ Good-bye, Gretta. ” 

“ Must you go,, Jem? Won’t you have some breakfast 
first?” , _ 

“ No, thank you. I shall get to the camp in time to boil 
a billy of tea before we start out. ” 

“ Have some milk, then. Here it is, fresh down from 
the yard.” 

Maafu had just entered and deposited a brimming pail 
upon the floor of the dairy. 

Gretta filled a pannikin. He drank it. 

“ Don’t forget, Jem, that we are to see the New-year in 
from the top of Little Comongin range.” 

“ I’m coming over on Tuesday, Gretta. Remember what 
I said. Don’t be hard on people, dear. Don’t give any 
one the chance of being hard on you.” 


140 


THE HEAD STATION. 


Fergusoti^s voice was husky. Gretta^s big, brown eyes 
softened, her lips drooped; she looked like a child who had 
been scolded. 

‘‘ Jem, you^re not very unhappy? I couldnH bear to 
think I had made you so. Oh, Jem, forget last night. 
There^s a real, steaming Christmas before us. Let us pray 
for thunder-storms and enjoy ourselves. I have a queer sort 
of feeling that Gretta Reay^s butterfly existence is coming 
to an end, and that her life is going to be a more serious 
sort of affair. Now, Maafu, quick I The strainer. Pour 
the milk in steadily and donT splash my frock. Good-bye, 
Mr. Ferguson. 

Gretta was herself again. She rarely called him Jem, 
except when they were alone or some deeper chord had been 
struck in their intercourse, although their joint relationship 
to Mrs. Blaize, and the freedom of their bringing-up, might 
at all times have sanctioned the familiarity. 

Feguson mounted his horse, and, passing through the 
upper slip-rails, was soon lost to view. But his heart was 
heavy, and the image of Gretta among her milk-pans clung 
to him like a sorrowful memory. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

LOBSTER-EISHIHG IH THE PADDOCK. 

Before a week had gone by both 1^4 
Bertram Wyatt were thoroughly domes%,^, 

It was not difficult to conform to the^f” ^ '^‘outine of 
the household. In reference to most tliiu^ . tnere reigned a 
delightful spirit of freedom, though it was easy to see that, 
with regard" to station matters and questions of impor- 
tance, Mr. Reay was an autocrat. Each member of the fam- 
ily seemed to have his or her 


occupation, and in 
the day-time the head-station was comparatively peaceful. 
Sib spent most of his time at the Selection, and the boys 
were all day at work with their tutor, who, in his turn, 
only put in an appearance after dinner. Of the three sis- 
ters, Mollie Clephane, absorbed in her needle-work, her de- 
votion to her husband, and her housewifely plans, was 
perhaps the most amiable and the least interesting. 
Gretta was the practical head of domestic affairs. Always 


THE HEAD STATION. 


141 


bright, never idle, except during legitimate siesta time, 
with a laugh ready upon the smallest provocation, a quick 
perception of the ludicrous, and a pretty vein of sentiment, 
which gave womanliness to her character — Gretta was a 
fascinating study to the English girl, who could not under- 
stand the utter unconventionality, the childish audacity, 
the worldly shrewdness, and the vivid imagination, of her 
Australian cousin. To Gretta, Isabel appeared stiff, and 
sometimes aggressively superior. Isabel did not take kindly 
to after-dinner rambles and fearless flirtation, the openness 
of which rescued it from the imputation of vulgarity /but 
which was, nevertheless, opposed to the notions of pro- 
priety which had been inculcated at Heatherleigh. In fact, 
they were both, as yet, a little afraid of each other, though 
each secretly admired the other. 

Hester Murgatroyd seemed always distant and dreamy, a 
strange compound of impulsiveness and reserve, somewhat 
lazy in her habits, taking small part in the family jokes 
and amusements, yet giving the impression of a fund of 
enthusiasm held in leash by nervous dread of coldness or 
ridicule. She was of a metaphysical turn of mind, and 
would spend hours of the afternoon, lying half-dressed at 
full length on the matting, a translation of the ‘‘ Phsedo 
before her, and a plate of muscatel grapes by her side. 
There was a certain delicate sensuousness about Hester 
which contrasted oddly with her air of other-worldliness, 
and might have furnished a key to unsuspected capabilities 
* .•io'^he was addicted to solitary rambles, in 
-ji proposed to join her. Once, when Isa- 
oci . : company, she was nervously rebuffed, 

and Gretta ^ -ned in a bantering tone* 

‘‘Oh! you nfifet get used to Hester’s fads. She has a 
notion that it’s philosophical to walk by herself in a circle, 
and looks upon a round of the race-course as the symbol of 
eternity. If you went with her you’d prevent her from 
ranting among the gum-trees, and that would be a serious 
loss to the opossums.” 

Yet in the attitude of the whole family toward Hester 
there was a kind of wistful tolerance that was pathetic. Ho 
one seemed to expect anything from her, all made allow- 
ance for her peculiarities. Mr. Reay, hard in manner, and 
a disciplinarian toward all except the females of the Head. 
Station, never interfered with his eldest daughter’s pur- 


142 


THE HEAD STATION. 


suits, or hinted that she might employ her time with 
greater advantage to the community. He was always gen- 
tle, if a little distant, in his manner to her, and occasionally 
consulted her upon an abstract topic, never upon anything 
closely related to their every-day life. 8he might have been 
a visitor instead of being the ostensible head of the estab- 
lishment, and it was very evident that there was no real 
sympathy between father and daughter. A wall had once 
divided them, and it had never been completely broken 
down. Hester Murgatroyd, received again into her old 
home and reinstated in her position as a daughter of the 
house, could, nevertheless, in no sense be looked upon as 
Hester Reay. Deep in his heart Duncan Eeay cherished 
an implacable animosity against the scoundrel for whose 
sake his daughter had deceived him. He had rejoiced 
over Lance Murgatroyd^s shame, had regretted the expira- 
tion of his term of imprisonment, and would willingly have 
given him again over to the law had he possessed the 
power. It is a curious illustration of the strange workings 
of a woman^s heart, that, though Hester hated and de- 
spised her husband, she resented this attitude of her father, 
and, even in her sorrow and humiliation, ranged herself un- 
consciously against him. An inflexible conformity to jus- 
tice was Mr. Reay^s most striking characteristic. He had 
no pity for youthful excesses. If his boys got into debt they 
had to suffer for it. If by folly, or cowardice, they brought 
trouble upon themselves, he would do nothing to soften 
their punishment. It was one of his favori+ 

‘‘ a man must stand on his own bottom a.- 
Roman who delivered up his son to the'- exe .. 
have been considered by him worthy of the * .ghest rever- 
ence. 

Though hotter than usual, even for the season of year, 
this was a busy time at Doondi. The mustering for the 
northern station was in swing. Every morning Captain 
Clephane — equipped for the part, and completely in his 
element — wo aid set forth at the head of a tribe of stockmen, 
black boys and dogs; and his return in the afternoon, ^mid 
such a cracking of whips, bellowing of beasts, and yelling of 
men, that it could be heard miles off, was the signal for 
Mr. Reay to leave the. garden, or cultivation paddock, and 
repair to the yards, where lie would have tough sticks and 
extra hands in readiness for the drafting. Isabel found it 


THE HEAD STATION. 


143 


a curious experience to watch from afar the process of 
yarding a mob— the surging red-brown mass, a sea of toss- 
ing horns and laboring backs; the outriders, their stock- 
whips writhing in the air, and at each stroke sending a re- 
port to echo through the gum-trees; the wild dashes hither 
and thither; the break-neck gallops after refractory beasts; 
the uproar and confusion round the yard itself — men, 
horses, cattle, and brandished staves in wild medley; then, 
when all was over, the jog down to the house, the dismount- 
ing of grimy riders, the unsaddling of tired beasts, and 
bathing of their sunbaked ribs and inflamed backs with 
cold water from the cask; and finally the sally down the 
creek, and, when the dinner-bell rang, the return of tired 
bushmen, refreshed, clean, reclothed, and in a sociable 
humor. 

In the saddle from dawn to s""'^ ^ ' 



the physical exertion involved 


cracking! It seemed to Isabel Gauntlett that the Eura 
squatters worked harder than any English laborer she had 
ever known. 

Mr. Wyatt, as in duty bound, offered the mustering- 
party his help, but it was declined on the ground that, as 
he did not know the country, he could be of but little use. 
Glad enough was he to avail himself of the plea and to de- 
vote himself to the service of the ladies. 

He found it a pleasant lounging sort of life. During the 
morning, a little desultory music with Isabel in the draw- 
ing-room, while Gretta would pass to and fro in her big 
apron and straw hat, occasionally calling upon him to 
gather a basket of grapes or to chastise a kangaroo-hound 
which threatened to damage the garden, or to shell a cob 
of Indian corn for the regalement of the fowls outside the 
fence. Mrs. Olephane, in the veranda, sewed, and chided 
Jinks; and Hester Murgatroyd wandered about rearranging 
the flowers, or reclined in the hammock with a book. 

And then, in the afternoon, the siesta and smoke, the 
awakening at five o^ clock, and saunter to the croquet- 
ground — for in the bush, in those days, tennis was not — the 
canter in the cool of the day, or the stroll by the creek in 
search of late mulgams, when, no matter how the party 
had been re-enforced Gretta and Wyatt usually found them- 
selves carrying on one of those dreamy conversations which, 
when prolonged under the orange-trees and down by the' 


144 


THE HEAD STATION. 


lagoon after dinner, made them know each other in a week 
as well as though their acquaintanceship had extended over 
years of ordinary intercourse. 

It was the afternoon of the day upon which Mr. Fergu- 
son and Mr. and Mrs. Blaize were expected, and the house- 
party were in the veranda, overcome with the heat and dis- 
inclined to move out of the squatters'" chairs and ham- 
mocks. Jinks sidled up to Isabel and commenced conver- 
sation in her discursive fashion. Jinks had been a little 
less irrepressible of late, and spent a good deal of time in 
silently watching Isabel. Maafu had distinctly discouraged 
her scheme for transforming herself into a fair one with 
golden locks,’ ^ and his graphic representation of the obvious 
reasons in his own case for using lime-wash had somewhat 
disgusted her with the operation. 

“ Are you stetic? Me are all getting stetic because my 
governess is going to be married, and she is working sun- 
flowers. Have you got lots of jewelry, and cups and sau- 
cers, and hrittles, and things in your home in England: 
Tell me what your parlor is like. ” 

Isabel described tlie drawing-room at Heatherleigh in a 
manner which set Jinks’s imagination working, and 
brought forth many ^estions and remarks. What did she 
mean by curtains? Were they mosquito-curtains? They 
didn’t have any others at Doondi. And who were the pict- 
ures of? And what was china? And did she mean that the 
floor was quite covered with carpet, and that there wasn’t 
a sewing-machine handy? And was she quite sure that 
tarantulas didn’t get behind the rafters? Presently she 
asked briskly: 

Do you like craw-fishing?” 

Is that fishing in the creek?” said Isabel. 

‘‘ No,” said Jinks, with scorn; “ it’s only the blacks who 
catch things in the creek. I mean little lobsters — up in the 
paddock. I caught eight myself, and I lost the billy-can- 
lid in the hole. I have a beautiful mud-hole close by the 
stock-yard. It’s all mud. There’s lots more muddy ones; 
and, if you like craw-fishing. I’ll take you there. Mr. 
Wyatt, you persuade Aunt Gretta to come and catch lob- 
sters in the paddock.” 

Wyatt, thus appealed to, turned to Gretta. 

‘‘I’m open to enlightenment. Miss Reay. Catching lob- 
sters in the paddock sounds a little mysterious. Your 


THE HEAD STATION. 


145 


notions of sport at Doondi strike me as being rather ele- 
mentary. Sib took me out shooting the other morning; 
we stalked, the creek and discharged two barrels at an in- 
offensive row of ducks sitting upon a log. Then we came 
home again. We eat the ducks. Are we to eat the lob- 
sters?'’^ 

‘‘ They^re for Maafu/^ put in Jinks; ‘‘ and Barty and I 
have supper with him. 

‘‘ Let us go/^ said Gretta, jumping out of the hammock 
and tying on her hat. 

They sallied forth — the boys, in the absence of their 
tutor, cracking the most inane jokes. Alas! Hester and 
Durnford had agreed to meet in their cave — Jinks, in huge 
excitement, carrying a tin billy and some other utensils 
borrowed from the kitchen, the rest armed with short 
sticks, a ball of string, and some pieces of raw beef. 

Near the stock-yard there lay a chain of muddy pools, 
not one deep enough to drown a kitten, but famous for the 
size and quality of the lobsters which lived in them. 

Gretta gravely directed operations, appointing to each a 
station. Isabel and AVyatt face to face, with half a yard of 
mud between them, each holding a stick from which hung 
a string with a piece of meat tied on to it; Jinks established 
in her own preserve, and the boys wading in the slime, with 
colanders ready to place under the prey. For the art of 
craw-fishing consists in sitting still with your string sus- 
pended over the mud till two green claws stretch up and 
fasten on the bait. Then, with a sudden jerk, you draw 
up something like a small craw-fish, under which you 
adroitly place a colander, or, with a swing backward of 
the string, to which the creature chngs like grim death, 
you land your prize upon the grass behind you. 

The lobster is greedy and stupid, and no amount of noise 
scares him from the bait. Jinks^s shrieks rang out freely. 

“ Oh, Uncle Joe! I\e got one. He^s a beauty. Here! 
Oh, my word! Hold the billy. Quick !^^ 

Gretta dexterously landed one after another, laughing at 
Mr. Wyatt clumsiness, and Isabel entered into the sport 
with the zest of a child, amused at the funniness of the. 
whole proceeding, and the comical appearance they pre- 
sented. A distant roar of cattle and cracking of whips 
came nearer and nearer. Jinks put down her stick with a 
sigh of intense satisfaction, and ejaculated. 


146 


THE HEAD STATION. 


“ Oh, I wish Pat was here! He does so love craw- 
fishing.^' 

Then, in the next breath, 

Oh, that's him, riding alongside of the buggy; and 
there's Aunt Judith and Mr. Ferguson." 

Craw-fishing was abandoned, and they all walked for- 
ward to meet the party from Gundalunda. 

' Mrs. Blaize, with her comely face, her blonde curls, and 
deep, mushroom hat, seemed to Isabel like an old friend. 
She got down with alacrity from the buggy and enfolded, 
first the English girl and then her nieces, in a motherly 
embrace. 

And now, I must see to my old man," she said, for 
he has just been ailing ever since you left us, Isabel, and 
needs a deal of coddling." 

Mr. Blaize, protected by his green umbrella, and a deep 
calico frill round his broad-brimmed hat, looked frailer and 
more wizened than ever. When he alighted upon the 
ground he shook himself much as a bird might have done, 
and cast a wistful glance at Gretta, and smiled pathetically 
at Isabel. . He shuddered when Mr. Reay came up, with 
his legs swinging like a pair of compasses, linked the old 
man under his arm, and led him down toward the house. 
Poor Mr. Blaize kept pace for a minute, and then stopped, 
bleating, 

“ I dare say now Miss Gauntlett wTll give me an arm, 
Mr. Reay, for I'm a little slow for you — and" — with the 
upward alert look — I always think myself that the sun 
is very hot in December; and a journey is a tiring thing." 

Meanwhile, Pat Desmond, after having, so to speak, put 
himself at the ladies' feet, snatched up dinks, and galloped 
back to the hill beyond the stock-yard, where a mounted 
white man and several blacks guarded a mob of tired-look- 
ing cattle. 

The man's face was turned toward Doondi House. His 
features were undistinguishable, but Isabel recognized the 
easy carriage of head and shoulders which suggested so un- 
mistakably the English gentleman, and the short brown 
beard and heavy mustache. She knew that it was Brad- 
dick the miner. 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


147 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE HEW DKOVEK. 

At dusk, Isabel and Gretta, gathering breast-knots in 
the court-yard, saw Braddick approaching from the stock- 
yard. 

He had put a coat on over his rough stockman’s 
clothes. He carried his stock-whip and a bundle of ration- 
bags. His eyes were lowered till he neared the palisade, 
and then he kept them steadily averted from the ^mung 
girls. 

The store-door was open, and Mr. Reay stood near, at 
the end of the veranda. On the supposition that the new- 
comer was one of Desmond’s hands in want of rations he 
called out — 

‘‘Well, my man. ^ Have you got the cattle yarded? 
They seem a wildish lot.” 

“We had a good deal of trouble with them, sir,” re- 
turned Braddick. “ They broke several times.” 

“ They’ll join the tailing mob to-morrow — ^that’ll quiet 
them. And we shall slack work here till after Christmas. 
You’ll want some plums and goodies I suppose. Ha!” as, 
during a more attentive scrutiny, something in Braddick’ s 
gait arrested him, “you are Mr. Desmond’s mate, ain’t 
you? From Wyeroo? Perhaps you were going to send in 
your name?” 

Braddick laughed in an unmirthful sarcastic fashion. 
He was well aware of the Australian etiquette. If a 
traveler sends in his name to the master of the head-station 
it is presumed that he is to be treated as an equal. Should 
he fail to do so he has no right to complain at being sent 
to the huts. 

“ My name is Braddick,” he said, shortly; “ I had not 
intended to send it in. Mr. Desmond engaged me to help 
in the muster here, and told me that I might perhaps get 
employment in the overlanding trip. I am, of course, 
anxious to accommodate myself to your arrangements. I 
meant to camp out. I have my tent, and came down for 
rations.” 


148 


THE HEAD STATIOJ^-. 


Gretta started when he began to speaks and stood in a 
listening attitude. 

“ That man is a gentleman/^ said she, decidedly; I 
know it by his voice. He is an Englishman, probably 
far better born and bred than we ourselves. Oh! many of 
them go by to and fro from the diggings and ask for work 
— Oxford and Cambridge men. ICs quite melancholy to 
see the straits they are reduced to. I hope father wonT 
make a mistake and send him to the kitchen. 

She moved forward, drawing Isabel with her. Braddick 
looked toward them, first rais^ his hat, and then, meeting 
IsabeTs eyes, made a second grave salutation. 

The yoimg girl bowed. Her heart had thrilled to the 
note of sad irony in his voice. A gentleman ! Could there 
have been an instant of doubt? She felt almost angry with 
Mr. Reay for his obtuseness. Quick-darting sympathy, 
which a moment later seemed ridiculous, conveyed to her 
that Braddick felt his position keenly, and that her presence 
heightened the contrast between the ‘‘then^^ and the 
‘‘ now,^^ and inflicted an additional stab of humiliation. 

Miss Gauntlett,^^ exclaimed Mr. Reay, you have met 
—Mr. Braddick?^^ 

‘‘ Mr. Braddick saved — began Isabel, and ended lamely 
— ‘‘ did me a great service the day I went down the mine 
at Wyeroo."’"’ 

She halted, from an indefinable feeling that any strong 
expression of gratitude would be out of place. 

How? What?^-’ inquired Gretta, her curiosity on the 
alert. She had already contrived to intimate dumbly to 
her father that the stranger was to be invited to the house. 

Miss Gauntlett overrates a most trifling matter as far 
as I was concerned, said Braddick, coldly; “I merely 
pulled her away — very roughly, I fear — from a heap of fall- 
ing stone. I can not find Mr. Desmond,^ ^ he went on hur- 
riedly. I donT suppose there are any more directions 
about the cattle, and I had better make my camp.^^ 

‘‘Desmond is at the Bachelors’ Quarters,” said Mr. 
Reay, pointing thither, “ or more likely, just now, in the 
creek. You’ll find a bunk over there, and dinner pre- 
pared, Mr. Braddick. I hope youTl accommodate yourself 
to your satisfaction, and give up the notion of camping. 
Squatting out of doors, with a Eura storm brewing, isn’t an 
agreeable sort of proceeding— at least, I don’t think so; and 


THE HEAD STATIOi^. 


149 


you'll please to understand, Mr. Braddick, that my daugli- 
, ters will be glad to see you«at the house, if you'll care to 
walk down, for some music by and by." 

“ I hope you'll come," interposed Gretta, with her little 
air of stately friendliness. 

“ Thank you," answered Braddick;. ‘‘ you are very kind. 
T had not intended," he began, in his tone of proud humil- 
ity, and stopped. A curious expression stole over his face, 
and a far-away look into his eyes, as they turned toward the 
, two girls, and dwelt lingermgly upon Isabel's Madonna- 
like face, upon her slim figure, and all the dainty adjuncts 
of her dress. 

Yes, I will come," he said, in quite a different man- 
ner; I am much obliged to you for the invitation." 

And without any further words he lifted his hat again 
and Walked to the Bachelors' Quarters. 

A storm was threatening. After dinner, for a short 
time, Gretta and Wyatt stood in the veranda, watching the 
lightning as it played over Oomongin, while Ferguson found 
poor balm for his wounded spirit in conversing with Isabel; 
and Sebastian, who had ridden over for Christmas from the 
Selection, sat, as was his custom, among the knot of bush- 
men, every now and then putting a word into the talk, about 
‘‘ Nash's mob," and straining his ears to catch Isabel's low- 
toned utterances. 

Presently the storm burst, and the rain, beating in at 
the veranda, drove them to join the elders in the parlor. 
As they entered by the French window, the gentlemen from 
the Bachelors' Quarters came in from the back. 

Pat Desmond, his jolly Irish face alight, his tongue in 
full swing, was in advance. 

‘‘ Well, Mrs. Clephane, and how are you? And Miss 
Gretta? You see I couldn't keep away from you — not even 
long enough to smoke my pipe and have a yarn with Durn- 
ford. Are you getting over your shaking, Mr. Blaize? 
Sure, and they told me you'd gone to bed to draw your 
last breath; and I said, ‘ Anyhow, I'll be in for the 
wake.' " 

“ Pat," said Aimt Judith, with dignity, ‘‘if you're ever 
in need of any information about anything that's worth 
knowing, you can't do better than apply to my husband, 
for when he isn't snoozing he is reading, and when he isn't 


150 


THE HEAD STATION. 


reading lie is meditating on what he has read. But, let me 
warn you, Mr. Blaize is not a man to stand your flippant , 
jokes, and youM do well not to trifle with his rest.'’^ 

‘‘My dear,^^ murmured the white-haired little man, 
rousing himself from the depths of a squatter^s chair, 

“ don ^t check the young people. I always think myself 
that merriment in the young is a sign of health and happi- 
ness. 

Pat sidled up to Gretta. 

“ Ah, this road is full of memories, he said, dropping 
his voice sentimentally. “ Do you recollect the last time I 
rode back with you from Gundalunda, and had to leave you 
at the slip-rails, and gallop home in time for work at day- 
break? Yes, sir — in a louder key — “ I’ve turned my 
horses out; the upper paddock, isn^’t it:^^ 

Braddick and Durnford made their greetings more 
quietly. The former had exchanged his rough garments 
for a dark suit, which showed signs of wear and of much 
creasing, but in which it was difficult to identify him with 
the working miner or the traveling drover. His manner 
was very quiet, a little stiff, but perfectly well-bred. One 
after the other, the sisters spoke to him with the kindly in- 
tention of setting him at ease, and, in surprise, changed 
their tone, discovering that he was perfectly self-possessed 
and evidently a man of culture, though the latter fact he 
seemed desirous of keeping in the background, for he hesi- 
tated and withdrew from a discussion which Clephane and 
Wyatt had started upon a mooted point in modern art, 
after having made a remark or two which betrayed a 
thorough acquaintance with the bearings of the subject. 

It seemed an unnatural proceeding to spend a summer 
evening within doors at Doondi, and a little restraint hung 
over the party. Gretta was not herself. Ferguson noticed 
that her laughter soiuided forced, and that she had fits of 
thoughtfulness not usual with her. Nor was she so ready 
in exchanging bantering remarks with Wyatt concerning 
his pupilage in bush-ways as had been the case a week ago. 
James, on his side, was spasmodic in his dashes at conversa- 
tion; and his effort to behave as though nothing had hap- 
2^ened was rather a failure. 

Mr. Reay, Captain Clephane, and Sib sat down to a 
game of whist, at which the poet made a fourth. There 
W9.S a call upon Isabel for a “ tune from Mr. Reay; and, 


THE HEAD STATION. 


151 


as she softly played the ballet music from ‘‘ Eomeo e 
Giulietta/^ Braddick left his place by a round table where 
he had been turning over a collection of English magazines, 
and took a seat beside the piano. He did not speak even 
when she had ended the movement and let her hands drop 
in her lap. The rain pattering on the roof, the low growl- 
. ing of thunder, and buzzing of insects, which rushed in 
thousands to the light, made a chorus in keeping with the 
muggy atmosphere and with the dreamy excitement which 
this man^s presence aroused in her. She began again to 
play some disjointed chords, and started violently as a 
winged cockroach alighted on the music-stand. Braddick 
dexterously covered it with his handkerchief and took it to 
the window. 

There are two aspects to a tropical evening, he said, 
as he resumed his place. ‘‘ When one reads of balmy 
breezes, waving palms, perennial greenery, and southern 
moonlight, one is apt to forget prickly heat, thunder-storms, 
mosquitoes, and such trifling discomforts.^-’ 

It would be easy to make a very big entomological col- 
lection in this room,^^ said Isabel, with a nervous laugh; 
^ ‘ I am fascinated by those uncanny flying ants which 
shuffle off their wings and leave them loose on the table- 
cloth. I feel like Alice in Wonderland,'’^ she added; and 
I can hardly imagine that to-morrow will be Cliristmas- 
eve.-’^ 

By a natural sequence their talk drifted to the various 
modes of' celebrating Christmas, and Isabel, alluding to 
some ancient Devonshire customs, was astonished to And 
the miner primed with information concerning the county 
and its inhabitants. 

You know Devonshire well?” she exclaimed. 

“ South Devon? Yes. I was quartered at Pl3rmouth 
for a year, and my home was — ” he halted abruptly. 

One gets to know the ins and outs of a county by making 
walking-tours and fishing in out-of-the-way villages. And 
you?” he asked, with a bright gleam of interest lighting 
his face, “ is that where you live? There were Gauntlet ts 
in Suffolk, I remember,” and he paused again. 

‘‘You mean my cousin — at Bretherton. That is in 
Suffolk. We were in London till my father died, and then 
I went to my sister at Heatherleigh. It is about fourteen 
miles from Plymouth. ” 


152 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


“ Your sister is Lady Hetherington? I recollect. Sir 
Eichard was master of the hounds. Has he them still 

‘‘ Oh, yes. He would be lost without the occupation.*’^ 

There was a little silence. Isabel plunged into a waltz 
of Chopin’s. She longed to ask him if he were acquainted 
with her brother-in-law, but something held her back. At 
last, going back upon the dreamy prelude, she said, 
abruptly, 

‘‘ Mr. Braddick, it is very strange. The first time I saw 
you — in the mine — I felt sure you were — sure that you had 
come from England.” 

‘‘ Most of the men knocking about Wyeroo, who seek 
their fortune in my sort of irregular way, come from Eng- 
land, as Mr. Desmond will tell you. There’s nothing 
strange about that.” 

‘ ‘ Perhaps not. But it is odd that you should know my 
country and my people. I dare say that you have met my 
sister .and my brother-in-law.” 

‘‘ I have seen them,” replied Braddick, shortly. 

“ Perhaps,” continued Isabel, ‘‘ we have other interests 
in common. Your friends may be mine. At least,” she 
added simply, ‘‘ I was not very intimate with any of our 
neighbors except those quite near, for I had not been long 
out of the school-room when I got ill. But it is most likely 
that my sister — ” 

‘‘ Not at all likely,” interrupted Braddick; ‘‘ I have no 
friends in England.” 

Still, if you were quartered at Plymouth? The ofiicers 
always visit a good deal at the country-houses round about. ’ ’ 
Why do you imagine that I must necessarily have been 
an officer?” he asked, coolly. “ It is much more natural 
that you should think of me as a common soldier. ” 

‘‘ No, that I am sure you were not,” returned Isabel, 
with girlish frankness. ‘‘You couldn’t honestly assure me 
that you were not — ’ ’ 

“ A gentleman,” he said, filling up the blank. “It is 
possible for a common soldier to be a gentleman, as well as 
a miner or drover, is it not? But we need not go into that 
question. I am flattered by your good opinion. Miss Gaunt- 
lett, but indeed I can honestly assure you that I feel more 
at home in the men’s tent than in a lady’s drawing-room. 
By the way, I am indebted to your recognition of me for 
my kind reception here. ” 


THE HEAD STATION. 


153 


“Oh, no, said Isabel, coloring; “Miss Reay was cer- 
tain a mistake had been made.'^ 

“ No one made a mistake. I dare say you have already 
learned something about Australian formalities. There are 
not many, but one at any rate is stringently observed. I 
never send in my name at a station. I have always pre- 
ferred that it should be taken for granted I am a working- 
man. But for you and Miss Reay I should have been 
camping-out to-night, and my Christmas prospects would 
have seemed very different. I donT know that I have been 
wise.^^ 

“ Not wise? Surely this is better than camping-out— on 
such a night?^^ 

“ Oh, yes! I grant you it is delightful — delightful to 
hear Chopin played in this way — delightful to see the dear 
old ‘ Blackwood ^ and ‘ Temple Bar,^ and all the odds and 
ends, flowers and knickknacks; delightful to be received 
on terms of equality by ladies in evening dress, who suggest 
visions out of dream-land. Good heavens and he gave 
himself a little shake, “ it is like a dream. But there^s 
always something cold and depressing about the waking- 
up. 

“ I am sorry, said Isabel, gently, and their eyes met as 
she went on playing. His gaze lingered long after hers had 
drooped. 

“ How clever you are!” he said, “ to play and listen and 
talk all at the same time.^^ 

“ Oh!^^ she answered, dwelling upon an arpeggio chord, 

this is my ‘ talking music,^ I know it so well; and now it 
is over, and Mr. Wyatt is going to sing. ” 

She got up, and Wyatt, under protest, took her place. 

This is the thing I meant. Miss Reay,^^ he said, and 
struck a few lame chords, trolling forth with great spirit 
the opening bars of a German student’s song. 

“ It’s no use; I can’t manage the accompaniment,” he 
exclaimed, rising, “ and Miss Gauntlett is helpless without 
the notes, which I haven’t got.” 

“ I’ll play your accompaniment,” said Braddick. “ I 
used to know the song well — that is, if you like to try me. 
I haven’t touched the piano for years.” 

Wyatt looked surprised, and bestowed an instant’s care- 
ful scrutiny on the miner. Braddick sustained it without 
change of a muscle. A queer gleam of comprehension 


154 


THE HEAD STATION. 


shone in Wyatt's eyes. “ The man's a real chap/' was his 
unspoken thought. 

Thank you/' he said, simply; I am in luck. If you 
know that song you must know a great deal besides in the 
way of music. By Jove!" he ejaculated aside, as Braddick 
put his hands on the keys with the air of a master, and pre- 
luded with great power and delicacy, then took up the re- 
frain and suppressed his own individuality, as a good accom- 
panist is bound to do. 

They were all delighted, and proffered eager congratula- 
tions. Captain Olephane cried ‘‘Bravo" from the whist- 
table, and speedily arrived at the same conclusion concern- 
ing the new hand as- that which the others had already 
formed. The whist-party dispersed; grog and cake were 
brought in, and grapes and wine handed to the ladies. 
Song followed song, and then all the musical ones joined 
round the piano, and lifted their voices in a Christmas 
carol, at which the tears rushed to Mr. Blaize's eyes, and 
the old man nodded gently in time to the music. Hester 
and Durnford sat a little apart, and talked in low tones 
during the intervals and under cover of the piano. Every 
now and then, during a lull, voices here and there would 
sound distinctly. Gretta in soft duologue with Wyatt; 
Mollie Clephane in domestic confabulation with Mrs. 
Blaize. “Jack says that Jinks is being ruined by Miss 
Barham. We put an advertisement in the paper ahd had 
twenty-five letters — people begging to come — but Jack says 
he couldn't be bothered with a new one; and Miss Barham 
cried, and so we shall keep her till her marriage," etc. 
And then, later. Aunt J udith, in tearful impressive tones, 
in her anxiety quite oblivious to the fact that Braddick was 
playing pianissimo — “ Well, have you heard anything of 
Lance Murgatroyd since he got out? Look here, Mollie, I 
am just breaking my heart about it all. There's a report 
that he has turned bushranger; and to think of his being 
poor Hester's husband — " 

“Aunt Judith," cried Gretta, wildly, “do you know 
that the drays haven't arrived yet, and we have nothing in 
the store for Christmas?" 

Mr. Braddick had looked up from the piano in a quick 
wondering way at the mention of Lance Murgatroyd 's name, 
first at Mrs. Blaize, and then at Hester, whose crimson face 
told of the pain and mortification she was enduring. He 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


155 


brought his hands down with a big crash. There was a 
general move, and Mrs. Blaize, hi remorse and confusion, 
began the good-nights. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

CHRISTMAS CAKES. 

It was the morning of the 24th of December, and the 
Doondi drays laden with stores from Leichardt^s Town had 
not yet arrived. Groceries were at a low ebb on the sta- 
tion; the cognac had run out, there were wanting white 
sugar, candied peel, plums, and many other ingredients of 
the great Christmas cake and pudding, the annual triumph 
of Mrs. Blaize and Mollie Clephane. Alas! cake and pud- 
ding, as all good housewives are aware, should have been 
made a week ago, but the drays had been daily, almost 
hourly, expected, and Gretta — practical, energetic Gretta — 
had not been quite herself of late, and had failed to grap- 
ple promptly, as was her wont, with the emergency. 

Oh, what a sweltering day it was! The rain of the night 
before rose in steam from the ground. The sun beat as it 
were through a wet blanket. Myriads of flies clung stickily 
to an empty sugar-mat set forth as a trap. The big kan- 
garoo-hound, stretched in the shade of a vine, did not even 
bestir himself at Maafu^s cry, ‘‘Hon! Hou! Fowl in 
de garden !^^ but only yapped lazily as if to say, Just you 
wait till I get up,^^ a warning which the chickabiddies did 
not mind in the least. A brisk little Willy- wagtail hop- 
ping about on the gravel seemed the only creature not 
overpowered by the heat. Work had been struck as far as 
the upper ‘‘hands'’^ were concerned, and the ‘‘tailing 
mob put in charge of a stockman and the black boys. 
Most of the party had gathered in the back veranda, Moilie 
at her sewing-machine, the baby sprawling at her feet; 
Isabel dressing a doll for Jinks; Sib crushing Indian corn; 
Ferguson, Clephane, Braddick, and Pat Desmond plaiting 
thongs of green hide, punching holes in saddle-straps, and 
tinkering saddlery; Wyatt assisting Gretta in the store to 
weigh out little bagfuls of tea and sugar, the Christmas 
bounty to the blacks. Jinks and the boys were consoling 
themselves over a huge water-melon; and Mrs. Blaize, 
standing by the open kitchen wmdow, was ruefully con- 


156 


THE HEAD STATION. 


templating a basin of eggs, the accumulation of weeks, and 
ejaculating, disconsolately, “ Such is life! Waiting! 
Waiting !^^ while Pat Desmond mado the cheering sugges- 
tion that he and Braddick should ride over and forage at 
the nearest station. 

• But at that moment the cracking of stock-whips, and a 
volley of hullock-driver^s oaths, borne faintly on the still 
air, told that the drays were approacliing. 

In a few minutes two heavily-laden wagons, drawn by 
oxen, were brought to a stand-still outside the palisade. 
Mr. Reay came out of his office, and in his disjointed fashion 
cut short an explanation on the part of the men, in which 
“ Captain Rainbow, that there darned strawberry bul- 
lock, which yokes and hobbles wouldn^t keep close to a 
camp,^^ and the “ Gin Gin Crossing up to its banks, were 
prominent features. 

“Come now,^^ said the master, “ thaPs all a pack of 
havers. Don^t you talk to me of bushrangers on the Eura! 
YouWe been on the spree at the half-way public-house, and 
yoiPve made a pretty close shave of Christmas. Talk of 
that by and by. A nobbier a-piece for you, and look sharp 
about unloading. 

The rum was served out; the bullocks unyoked; the gen- 
’tlbmen ran out to assist in removing the tarpaulins, and 
soon the veranda was strewn with boxes and barrels, sacks 
of flour and mats of ration sugar. Gretta pounced upon 
the case of groceries which Desmond prized open ; and then, 
with the air of a general reviewing a raw army, she ad- 
dressed her recruits — 

“ Now, if you carp, about a proper Christmas dinner, 
you must all set to work, and help us to cook, or if you pre- 
fer it, wefll send to the blacks' camp and have some gms 
up to stone the raisins." 

Groans and protests greeted this proposition. 

“ Sure, Miss Gretta," cried Pat, “ av it's more than flve 
able-bodied men can do to stone the raisins — not counting 
Mr. Blaize and Jinks — here's Mr. Gustavus to make a 
sixth." 

The inspector of mines appeared at the kitchen door. 
He had just hung up his horse, and looked even yellower 
than usual, by reason of a pair of buff corduroys and a 
straw-colored alpaca coat which he wore with apparent 


THE HEAH STATION. 


157 


satisfaction. joe irreverently began to sing under his 
breath, 

“ Dyspepsy would a- wooing go,” 

while Mr. Gustavus made his bow to the ladies, explaining 
that having found Gundalunda deserted he had ridden over, 
relying upon the proverbial hospitality of Poondi, and 
Jinks artlessly inquired — 

“ Has your enemy made you sick lately, Mr. Gustavus?^^ 

Indeed, then, your enemy ^s likely to get the best of 
you here,^’ observed Mrs. Blaize, grimly, as with a butcher ^s 
knife she divided a lump of suet, and then in a stage aside 
murmured to Braddick, It^s the coats of his stomach. 
Take my advice, Gustavus, and keep out of the kitchen. 

“ ‘ The wise and active conquer difficulties 
By daring to attempt them: sloth and folly 
Shiver and shrink at sight toil and hazard,’ ” 

gallantly spouted Mr. Gustavus. Apportion to me my 
task, Miss Gretta. Command, I am thy servant. 

Presently, after a comprehensive gaze round, he stepped 
across to Durnford, who was leaning against a veranda-post, 
and whispered, with his hand to his ear — 

Who is that man talking to Miss Gauntlett?'’’ 

His name is Braddick, shortly replied the poet, who 
did not like Mr. Blaize. 

He has no business among the ladies,^ ^ said the in- 
spector; ‘‘ he has been working at the diggings. 

So has Pat Desmond,^-’ rejoined Durnford. 

Pat knows his position. That fellow is a gentleman 
and wonT acknowledge it. I have seen him at places on 
my rounds, and he was always with the men in the huts. 
This is the^ only station I know where he has given his 
name. There^s a mystery, believe me. But what puzzles 
me is that his face is connected, in my mind, with Eng- 
land, though I canT recollect how or where IVe seen it. A 
man of my vast social experience in both hemispheres, 
Durnford, finds a difficulty in tabulating his impressions. 

I shall make it my business to ransack my memory. 

“ I have not the least doubt that Mr. Braddick'^s private 
affairs will not long be a mystery to you,^^ said Durnford, 
pointedly. 

Mr. Gustavus,^^ cried Gretta, coming forward and 
23 resenting him with a meat-board and a chopper, “ no idle 


158 


THE HEAD STATIOX. 


conversation allowed. Kerens some suet for you to mince, 
and please be very careful to do it finely. Aunt J udith, 
you and Mollie take command, weigh and mix. Mr. Durn- 
ford and Miss Gauntlett, stone raisins. Hester, blanch 
almonds. Pat and Jinks, beat up butter, grease cake- tins, 
and wash currants. Mr. Wyatt, you take the whites of the 
eggs, and Mr. Braddick the yelks. Here^s a whisk apiece 
for you, and I recommend you to sit in the veranda with- 
out your coats. And, Mr. Ferguson,'’^ she turned a little 
shyly to James, perhaps you will help me to sift the flour 
and sugar.^^^ 

Never was a merrier morning spent. After a hurried 
luncheon there was a fresh adjournment to the kitchen, 
and by four o^ clock the cakes were in the oven and the 
pudding shrouded for the pot. A bathe and a lounge had 
been well earned. At half-past five the scene shifted to 
the wide, shady veranda the Bachelors^ Quarters, where 
the thermometer was discovered to be only one hundred 
degrees, one degree lower than the reading at the big 
house. 

Mr. Durnford, Joe, and Mark did the honors of the 
school-room, and handed tea and fruit to the ladies who 
were in hammocks outside. Sib dipped IsabePs pocket- 
handkerchief in the water-bag, sprinkled it with eau-de- 
Cologne, and, as she held it to her face, fanned her with a 
banana leaf. Wyatt performed the same office for Gretta. 
Pat Desmond and Jinks had climbed upon a rafter and were 
firing millet-grains at each other out of a pea-shooter, while 
Mr. Gustavus sprawled elegantly on the canvas stretcher 
and read in sonorous tones, 

“ They who say the hush is dull are not so very far astray, 

For this eucalyptic cloisterdom is anything hut gay; 

But its merciful dullness I contentedly could hrook, 

If I only could get hack my lost lamented Chinee cook. 

“ We got fat upon his cooking, we were happy in those days, 

For he tickled up our palates in a thousand pleasant ways; 

Oh, his dinners! oh, his dinners! they were fit for any duke; 
Oh, delectable Mongolian! oh, celestial Chinee cook!” 

“Eucalyptic cloisterdom ^ echoed Gretta. “ ThaPs a 
nice, expressive term — very applicable to life on the Eura. 
Sib, I declare there^s a breeze springing up. Saddle the 
horses and let us ride to the Gorge. I want some ferns and 


THE HEAD STATION. 


159 


hoya for Christmas decorations. Cooeel” she cried, espy- 
ing a black boy in the distance, and sending forth her sweet, 
fresh voice. The boy turned and ran at her call. Drive 
in yarraman. Combo, said Gretta; “ marra make haste. 
Altogether White Mary ride along a Gorge. 

Within, Hester poured out tea, and composedly cut bread 
and butter; but she took no part in the conversation, an- 
swering absently when Braddick, who had installed himself 
at her side, asked her a question, and wondering dimly why 
he attached himself to her, and why he looked at her so 
often and in so perplexed a manner. She felt a dreamy 
pleasure in the thought that she was Durnf Urdu’s guest, and 
her eyes noted with quickened interest the rough bush 
furniture, the books on their shelves, the dust, the canvas 
arm-chair — all the homely appliances of the bachelors’ room 
over which love cast now such a strange glamour. This was 
where he had spent his long lonely evenings, where he had 
thought of her, where he had written out his heart’s yearn- 
ing, and where he had battled with his love, and had, for 
her sake, decided to leave her. She watched him as he 
moved about. He was so quiet, so gentle, so full of the 
refinement which she often fancied was lacking in her sur- 
roundings> and yet, withal, he was so manly. His sedlilous 
care that no word or gesture on his part should draw to- 
ward her compromising remark moved her at once to grati- 
tude and resentment. She felt, at the moment, a wild de- 
sire to rise and announce their relations toward each other; 
to brave misconstruction and conventionality, and claim 
the right to recognition of a noble love, which should be its 
own justification. 

But no pure woman, even though she may have gone 
through an experimental marriage, is capable of loving 
with absolute self-consciousness. Her emotions are, to her, 
a source of wonder, tumult, and vacillation. Constitution 
and training render her unable to grasp the position. She 
is alternately the victim of impulse and reaction. She 
theorizes boldly upon the lawfulness of spiritual passion and 
its independence of material satisfaction, and thus may 
recklessly rush to the very brink of a precipice; but all the 
while she feels an underlying sense of moral, guilt, and a 
terror of the human instincts which imperiously assert 
themselves after a certain critical point has been reached in 
her intercourse with the man whom she loves. 


160 


THE HEAD STATION. 


To this point Hester was hurrying. Each secret meeting 
with Durnford at the cave, each passionate glance of his 
which she intercepted, each question and doubt against 
which she struggled, brought her nearer to the moment in 
which she should realize her danger. 


CHAPTER XXVL 

BY MOO^fLIGHT. 

The breeze had freshened into a keen wind, bringing the 
most delicious sense of coolness and exhilaration. There 
had evidently been severe storms in other parts of the dis- 
trict. The smoky haze had disappeared from the mount- 
ains; and the stifling heat no longer oppressed like a leaden 
pall. 

It was almost dusk when the little ' band passed through 
the slip- rails, Pat Desmond and the boys ahead, making the 
bush ring with a jolly Irish chorus, in which now and then 
Gretta, Wyatt, and one or two of the others joined; the 
horses stepping briskly, tossing their manes and coquettishly 
curveting as though they h^ caught the spirit of their 
riders. All were merry; there was a Are of would-be clever 
sayings, and the feeblest witticisms were greeted with peals 
of laughter. 

They paused for a minute in the bed of the creek; the 
horses plashed with their hoofs and champed their curbs in 
the running water, which made music as it rushed over the 
stones. A moon near her full shed broken beams through 
the chestnut-trees from which the long pods hung like mis- 
shapen fruit; the thirsty arums sucked in the moisture, erect, 
unsheathing their golden hearts; and the prickly yellow 
cactus lining the banks shed its musky fragrance upon the 
air. 

Howling and sounds of woe proceeded from the blacks’ 
camp opposite. The riders halted at a few yards’ distance, 
and Sib and Wyatt dismounted to mvestigate matters. It 
was a picturesque scene — the fires leaping up and illuminat- 
ing the green little gunyas, the groups of swarthy figures, 
and the imp-like pickaninnies, who rushed to and fro, and 
peered at the white men from behind the gum-trees. In 
front of an outside gunya, whence the wailing sounded, three 


THE HEAD STATTOH. 


161 

or four indignant gins vociferated round an angry warrior, 
who tragically flourished a nulla-nulla, and muttered 
aboriginal oaths; while King Oomongin, enthroned upon a 
possum-skin, blear-eyed, white-haired, and nude to the 
waist, his tattooed chest and brass plate — the insignia of 
royalty — showing in the glow, sat, philosophically callous to 
the disturbance, playing at cards with three other dusky 
elders for a miscellaneous stake, to which each had contrib- 
uted a bit of tobacco, a half-cooked bone, a piece of sugar- 
l)a^, and the rusty blade of an old knife. 

‘ So much for the romance of the camp. Miss Reay,^^ 
said Wyatt. Pompo my hero has been banging his bride 
about the head with a waddy. Remorse has overtaken 
him; he believes that an avenging debbil debbil is going to 
punish him for his breaking of the law, and this had led to 
a misunderstanding. You see in this case conjugal felicity 
did not last long. 

Gretta rebuked the delinquent in the odd dialect wliich 
prevails between white and black, and which Wyatt and 
Ferguson both thought soqnded so quaint from her pretty 
lips. Mrs. Pompo came forth from the gunyas at the sound 
of Gretta^s voice — a melancholy object, with her nose bleed- 
ing and her forehead cut. 

‘‘ Baal that fellow budgery, Benjamin,^' cried she, point- 
ing to Pompo; “ missus, you tell that fellow hini no good — 
too much mumkull — too much saucy. 

Whereupon Pompo broke in, 

Sar, I believe debbil debbil cobbon coolla belonging to 
me. What for mine mine run away with that fellow gin? 
Baal mine pidney. I bflieve debbil debbil marra Pompo. 
Mine close-up bong.^^ 

At this tragic suggestion there was a universal howl, and 
King Comongin, who had till now preserved a dignified 
silence, opined gravely that Massa Reay was a budgery 
medicine man. 

Suppose massa pialla debbil debbil, that fellow baal 
coolla belonging to Pompo. 

Then Gretta promised solemnly, in her father^s name, 
that the. “ debbil debbil should be piallaM that very 
night, and delivered an harangue upon the duties of mar- 
ried life. Peace was restored between the bride and bride- 
groom, and all the members of the camp were invited to 
the station on the evening of the morrow, when it was 


162 


THE HEAD STATION. 


promised they should receive the Christmas bounty of 
rations and ‘‘ toombacco/^ 

On cantered the young people, in wilder frolic than be- 
fore. But gradually, as the hills closed on the creek, and 
the track obliged them to ride by twos, the noise subsided 
into duets, and the Irish chorus pealed back faintly only 
now and then when the cliffs no longer interposed between 
the leaders and their followers. They came to a ghostly- 
looking flat, with hills rising like an amphitheater before 
them, and tall, dead gums, keeping guard like sentinels at 
the entrance to the gorge. The moon cast strange shadows 
and etherealized the girls^ faces as they shook their horses'’ 
reins and darted forward in a stretching canter. 

Mind the paddy-melon holes shouted Sib, seizing Isa- 
beFs bridle for an instant, and turning her horse^s head so 
that he and she rode abreast. At the sentinel gums they 
dismounted, and leaving their horses in the charge of Fer- 
guson, who had volunteered the service, entered the mys- 
terious cleft where rocks, tapestried with hoya and mount- 
ain-creepers, rose high on either side, and a clear little 
stream flowed along a bed of rock, smooth as the paved aisle 
of a church. 

The forms vanished between the jaws of the ravine, but 
the voices echoed back Gretta^s pearly tones, IsabeFs gentle 
laughter, Wyatt^s reflned English intonation, and Mr. 
Gustavus’s bass. Ferguson laid his head against the mane 
of Gretta^s mare Brunette, and stroked the animaFs hide 
and sought sympathy in the beast’s great, pitiful eyes. His 
heart was sick and sore. 

“It’s all up with me,” he murmured; “she’s getting 
to care for Bertram, and I’ve no chance now. Damn him!” 
he exclaimed, but the imprecation was sorrowful rather 
than angry, and it was with a sort of shock that James 
pulled himself up. “ She’s too good to be a man’s second- 
best. That’s what I mean,” he said, under his breath. 
“But if he, loves her — God bless her! Nothing matters 
provided she is happy.” 

It seemed a long time before the explorers came back. 
Ferguson sat with his back against a bowlder, and as.he held 
the horses’ bridles, and mechanically loosened and tightened 
the reins, so that Brunette might snap at a young twig, or 
another stoop to a rill of water, his misery seemed to quick- 
en his insight, and to bring him into wider sympathy with 


THE HEAD STATION. 


1G3 


liis fellows, so that he could dimly imagine what was pass- 
ing in the hearts of those who had left him, and wondered 
how many key-notes had been struck that night which 
should determine the harmonies or discords of their future 
lives. 

When .they returned, the men’s arms were filled with 
withes of hoya and red kennedia, tufts of parasite lilies, 
Australian mistletoe, and sheaves of fern; and they brought 
with them the scent of wild jasmine and of many rock- 
fiowers. Braddick was not laden like the rest, but he held 
in his hand a little cluster of jasmine which had dropped 
from IsabeFs breast. He lifted her to the saddle, and they 
cantered side by side across the fiat. It was a weird ride. 
The bitterns shrieked, and night-birds sent forth wailing 
cries of Maw-pa wk — Maw-pawk.'’^ And now again they 
were in the shadow of the hills, crossing and recrossing the 
fiagged creek-bed, and riding beside still dark pools, into 
which dead logs dipped like uncanny reptiles. Suddenly the 
moon became obscured by a driving cloud, and a fantastic 
tremor seized Isabel, so that she shivered. 

Braddick paused in his talk. It was of music. Strange! 
When this subject was touched upon by her he seemed to 
cast aside a restraint which at other times girded him, and 
spoke with that melancholy enthusiasm that seemed aroused 
by the thought of past experience, in which acute joy and 
acute pain were blended. A subtle sympathy made Isabel 
aware that such memories of his were connected with mu- 
sic, and that she had unconsciously touched a spring which 
set them vibrating. 

“ You are cold?^^ he asked. 

“ Oh, no! On such a dry delicious night? I was only 
thinking how different this ride is from anything I ever did 
at Heatherleigh, and a fancy struck me — it often does— I 
wonder if you ever feel the same — that this is like a vivid 
dream. 

Braddick gave his shoulders a queer little shake, and 
said, with his face turned from her — 

Life has seemed to me all a dream since d left Eng- 
land — sometimes a very unpleasant nightmare — and I have 
wished that it would change into a deep sleep, from which 
I might never awake. 

*'■ Oh!^^ uttered Isabel, shrinking as if pained; and look- 


164 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


iiig round he saw that her eyes were resting upon him with 
wistful interest. 

‘‘You mustn’t waste sympathy on me/’ he said, in a 
grave voice, which had in it no lightness or mockery; “ it 
is true that I have felt the wish to end everything, but that 
is a cowardly and contemptible sort of sentiment. Life is 
a noble thing in itself; I didn’t think so a little Vhile ago, 
but I am gradually getting to the belief. At any rate, it 
has to be lived out, tant Vien que mal; and the Eastern 
sage was right when he said, ‘ Death is a thing desirable 
when it comes, but not to be desired.’ ” 

“ I once felt in that way,” said Isabel, softly. “ It was 
when I had been very ill, and was so weak that to slip away 
from earth seemed easiest and best. I think it is a feeling 
which comes after sickness or great sorrow. ’ ’ 

“And now?” he asked, ignoring the latter part of her 
sentence. “You have got over it? A^ou are strong and 
liappy? If there is any one in the world who ought to be 
purely, serenely happy, it is you. ' ’ 

“ Why?” she asked, innocently. 

“ I suppose it is certain that the highest joy comes from 
the consciousness of being able to do good to others,” he 
answered, slowly. “ You have the power of making those 
around you haj^py.” 

“ I am glad that you think this of me,” she replied, 
simply. “ I have never had much chance of helping peo- 
ple in my life. Every one has had somebody else. Yo 
one has seemed to want anything I could do. ” 

“ Well/^ he said, abruptly, “ it may perhaps be a pleas- 
ure to you to know that you have done me good, even in 
this short time. If you care to hear in what way, I will 
tell you before 'l leave Doondi.” 

“ You are going to the northern station?’ ’ 

“ Yes. This morning Mr. Reay offered me a post there, 
and I accepted it gladly. I’m to have charge of one of the 
outside sheep-stations, at what seems to me a liberal salary. 

I believe there is a difficulty in getting a man for the place. 
It’s about the last in the explored district, and the blacks 
are troublesome. I am very glad of the opening; and 1 
shall be able in time I hope to take up a block of country, 
and when I have saved a little money to make a start for 
myself, ” 


THE HEAD STATION. 


165 


He spoke quietly and hopefully, without any trace of 
bitterness. IsaoeFs thoughts reverted to his previous words. 

“ But/'’ she said, timidly, ‘‘ the Australian life is not a 
nightmare to all. They seem very cheerful and contented 
here — my uncle, for instance, who was a soldier like you, 
and enjoyed society and that sort of thing in England. And 
surely, many are fortunate — 

‘‘ On the other hand, there are many failures. I accept 
your rebuke, Miss Gauntlett. It is my own fault that things 
have gone persistently wrong with me from my youth up- 
ward. I donT regret English society — and ‘ that sort of 
thing;’ nor do I object to hard work. Under some cir- 
cumstances one feels a savage pleasure in physical suffer- 
ing.” 

‘‘ Oh!” said Isabel, shrinking again. One must have 
been very unhappy for that. ” 

‘^You can’t imagine it! What English girl could, 
whose life has been a bed of rose-leaves? But it’s true. I 
had a devil-may-care sort of sensation when I landed in 
Leichardt’s Town, with a capital of fifty pounds and a land- 
order.” 

Isabel laughed sadly. 

I have been told that Mr. Eeay had only the land- 
order.” 

“ Of course I ought to have turned my pittance into a 
fortune,” said Braddick. “ According to all colonial tra- 
ditions I should have hit upon a rich claim or the site of a 
future township. But I did neither of these things. The 
money dribbled away. I found myself on the roads, ‘ hump- 
ing my swag,’ and breaking stones or splitting slabs for my 
grub.” 

But your friends in England!” said Isabel. ‘ They 
would have helped you.” 

‘‘ I had cut myself off from my friends,” replied Brad- 
dick. Oh, I wasn’t to be pitied— I wanted to break away 
from old associations. It was then I determined to sink 
‘ the gentleman,’ and you can little imagine the wild sort 
of life I have been leading for the last six or seven years, 
now driving cattle — now on the diggings^ — now shepherd- 
ing with a Chinaman, hobnobbing with a olack trooper, or 
even with a bushranger. You see what promotion this 
start with Mr. Reay is to me. Fortune began to smile upon 
me the day I first saw you. At all events I liave to thank 


1G6 


THE HEAD STATION. 


you for tlie happiest day I have known for years. Tliey are 
cantering on. Hadn^t we better join them?'^ 

In a few minutes the crossing was reached^ and that 
strange night-ride was nearly at an end. The blacks'’ camp 
was peaceful now; the fires burned low, and swarthy forms, 
wrapped in tattered blankets, lay round the embers. Again 
the riders halted in the river-bed. The moon shone down 
upon happy faces, and the poetry of the night set several 
hearts quivering with delicious agitation. All were sorry 
that the excursion was over, except indeed Ferguson, in 
his lonely misery; Sebastian, conscious of a trouble stirring 
his placid nature; and Mr. Gustavus devoured by bilious 
jealousy and suspicion. Gretta and Bertram Wyatt drew 
up at a little belt of scrub on the bank, and raised them- 
selves in their stirrups to gather some clusters of the blos- 
soms of a native shrub. A shower of sweetness rained upon 
them. They were bathed in perfume. As they rode on he 
said : 

England can not give us anything better than this. 
Miss Reay. I shall remember this Ohristmas-eve as long 
as I live.^^ 

No light, jesting reply rose to Gretta’ s lips. She could 
never answer him jestingly now. It occurred to her, at 
this moment, to wonder whether he had noticed how all her 
little mocking ways and frivolous talk failed her. in his 
presence. She herself had never before recognized the fact 
so thoroughly. It frightened her. She knew that a great 
change had come to her during the past two weeks, but she 
did not yet understand its full meaning, and, with a thrill 
of mingled excitement and terror, shrunk from the revela- 
tion. She felt no longer mistress of herself, and instinct- 
ively longed for a word or look which should restore her 
sense of supremacy. She checked her horse. 

“ I want to speak to Mr. Ferguson,” she said, and waited 
till he had gained her side. Wyatt drew into the rear, but 
Gretta and James kept pace in silence. The same thought 
was in both their minds, but neither could give it expres- 
sion. He in bitterness, and she in vague wonder and 
alarm, realized vividly how wide was the gulf which lay be - 
tween this night and that other night, so short a time ago, 
when Gretta’s impulses had so nearly answered to his call. 
They were on the edge of the lagoon now, and the lights of 
the house shone on the hill above them. Mr. Reay, Mollie, 


THE HEAD RTATTOX. 


ir>7 


and Clepliane, in the veranda, sent down a welcoming 
cooee, and, in reply, one of the jparty began to sing the old, 
old Christmas carol, in which ^11 the voices joined, near and 
distant, till it swelled into a joyful paean, 

“ ‘ God bless you, merry gentlemen, 

Let nothing you dismay,. 

Remember Christ our Saviour 
Was born on Christmas-day.’ ” 


CHAPTER XXVIL 

KING COMONGIN EXILED. 

Cheistmas-day this year fell upon a Sunday, which, 
at Doondi, was also mail-day. 

At eleven o^ clock, all on the head-station, family and 
guests, stockmen, fencers. Kanakas and half a dozen black 
boys — a few of the more respectably clad gins and stray 
lubras from the camp looking oh from outside the court- 
yard — congregated in the broad, shady back veranda. It 
was a curious little assemblage, the two pretty girls in their 
bright-colored muslins and fluttering ribbons; Hester, all 
in white, pale . and dreamy; matronly Mollie; beaming Mrs. 
Blaize, in her best black silk and a white muslin Garibaldi ; 
the handsome Englishmen and stalwart bush youths; and 
the heterogeneous company of ‘‘ hands — the stockmen 
wearing moleskins which gave evidence of having been 
washed in the creek; Maafu, the most civilized of Kanakas, 
in an ancient suit of Sib^s, his tow-colored hair well-greased, 
and a rose in his button-hole; Combo, the delighted wearer 
of a dilapidated jockey- jacket, violet-silk and primrose 
sash — the Doondi colors; and the other black boys in store 
trousers and blue shirts, with crimson handkerchiefs bind- 
ing their waists and woolly heads, the bright color contrast- 
ing with their ebony skins, bead-like eyes, and glistening 
teeth. 

The black boys seated themselves on the edge of the ve- 
randa, with difficulty repressing their impish merriment; 
Maafu and his compatriots, grave and decorous, drew apart 
from the blacks, and produced their Church Services; the 
rest occupied^chairs and benches; and Mr. Reay, standing 
before an extemporized lectern, read aloud the appropriate 


168 THE HEAD STATION. 

psalms and collects. They said a prayer; and afterward, 
all standing up, and Gretta leading, simg : 

“Come all ye faithful.” 

Then there was a general shaking of hands, a distribution 
of neat little packets, a great many “ Merry Christmas''s 
and Happy New-year^s;^'’ and the “ station hands went 
hack to their huts to enjoy themselves. 

Mrs. Blaize, however, who sought to redeem the errors 
of what she, good soul ! considered a frivolous life, and with 
a view to atonement for her husband ^s infidelity, detained 
the blacks; and, as was her wont on Sundays at Gunda- 
lunda, gave them instruction in the doctrines of Christianity. 
Jinks stood by, nodding approval, and every now and 
then putting in a word of explanation, while Mrs. Blaize, 
her ringlets quivering, her face full of earnestness and so- 
lemnity, translated Peep of Day into a comical dialect 
suited to the aboriginal comprehension. 

She was relating the hi^ory of the Fall, and describing 
the interview between Eve and Satan in the garden of Eden. 
A spry httle nigger, Euroka byname, fresh from the Tiery- 
boo tribe, listened in wonderment, evidently puzzled to ad- 
just the tale to certain obvious facts of life which presented 
themselves to him on the Eura. 

Great spirit Yoolootanah say to Adam, ‘ Baal you eat 
that fellow fruit. Suppose you eat him, corbon mine coola 
belonging to you. ^ Then debbil debbil pialla Eve, ‘ Budgei-y 
this fellow fruit — like it^ -like it. ^ Mrs. Blaize paused, 
at a loss for an illustration that should commend itself to 
Kanaka ^s gastronomical experience, in which the conven- 
tional apple had no place. 

‘‘ Like it bunya,^^ suggested Jinks. 

“ Yohi,"’’ said Euroka, deeply interested. 

“^Debbil debbil climb along a tree, continued Mrs. 
Blaize, exhibiting a picture which represented Eve draped 
in her hair, familiarly conversing witli a boa- constrictor, 
the reptile entwining the stem of a palm from which a 
cluster of very large apples hung, in defiance of botanical 
laws. 

“ Baal that bunya/' cried Euroka, aggrieved. “ What 
for snake 

“ You pidne}^’'' explained Mrs. Blaize; ‘Mebbil debbil 


THE HEAD STATIOIf. 


169 


been make him like it big fellow snake. Debbil debbil 
plenty pialla Eve — 

“ Baal, missus/’ interrupted Euroka, derisively, his 
countenance expanding in a grin: “ baal snake talkee 
talkee?” 

Mrs. Blaize, a little nonplused, referred to Genesis, and 
told how the great spirit Yoolootanah had informed Moses 
of the circumstance. But Euroka steadfastly refused to 
accept the statement which his own knowledge of natural 
history flatly contradicted, and, shaking his head gravely, 
declared: 

Mine think it two fellow woolla. Two fellow tell a lie. ” 

The controversy grew warm. Jinks was properly ortho- 
dox in the matter of the Fall, the Flood, and so forth, and 
severely rebuked Euroka’s skepticism. 

‘‘ The great spirit Yoolootanah — that’s God, you know 
— can do anything, Euroka. He can make snakes talk. 
He always does what is right, and punishes people when 
they deserve it — doesn’t he. Aunt Judith?” 

But at that moment certain theological difficulties of her 
own entered Jinks’s mind, and it struck her that this was 
an opportunity to air them. 

“ Aunt Judith,” said she, putting her thumbs together 
and assuming her imp-like expression of demureness, “ I 
don’t think it was quite right of God to punish the Jews 
for killing Jesus. He always meant them to do it, you 
know. Jesus had to come down from heaven and die for 
men. God 'promised Adam; and some one had to kill Him. 
If the Jews hadn’t done it nobody would have been saved.” 

“ Dear heart!” murmured Mrs. Blaize, laying down her 
book, ‘‘ it’s as bad as arguing with my old man.” 

And Just then,J;o her relief, a diversion occurred. There 
was a cry from the opposite veranda of — 

‘‘ The mail, the mail! Hullo, Stone, a merry Christmas 
to you!” and a red-faced, red- whiskered, excitable-looking 
little man, on horseback, leading a pack-horse, clattered up 
and dismounted at the veranda-railings. 

The postman, talking volubly all the time, unstrapped 
three brown leather mail-bags from his bundle, and handed 
them respectively to Mr. Eeay, Ferguson, and Clephane; 
the former in his turn produced a bottle of brandy, and 
poured some into a glass which Stone filled from the water- 
cask. 


170 


THE HEAD STATION. 


‘‘ Merry Christmas, Stone.” 

Beg pardon, sir, no offense, sir, the same to yOu and 
your cattle. And I can tell you of a bullock that's out of 
your mob, cap'en. I goes round the Oin Gin ridge, and I 
sees my noble* Mr. Billy with the Tieryboo brand on the 
near shoulder, and I drives him close up to Gundalunda, 
and I says nothing at all, and just puts him inside the 
boundary fence. ” 

‘‘Any news. Stone?" asked Mr. Reay, leisurely cutting 
the string of the mail-ba^. 

“ News! The colony is all agog. Gin Gin crossing is 
up, and so is the gully agin the boundary. An inch here 
makes a deal of difference there. The ministry is out, and 
Catesby is forming another. " 

“ No!" ejaculated Mr. Reay, and Gretta whispered to 
Ferguson — 

“ He'll put in for Works, and I shall have a little of 
Leichardt's Town gayety this winter. " 

“ The new governor has stepped into a constitutional 
crisis," continued Stone. “ He's a peppery old chap, and 
has brought a lot of Chinese servants; there's no missus, 
but there's a young lady, and lor, I never see'd her like 
except at Doondi." Stone politely raised his hat to Gretta, 
and stared at Isabel. ‘^‘ I says to my old woman, there's a 
beauty for you and no mistake. There's been a reception, 
and the guns banging, and all the volunteers turned out, 
and a levee — Good day to you, sir. Any message for 
Teryboo, cap'en? I shall be there to-night." 

Mrs. Clephane delivered some instructions relating to 
domestic matters, while Mr. Reay turned over a couple of 
official-looking documents addressed to himself, and then 
sorted the contents of the mail-bag. There were a great 
many papers, some English magazines, which he tossed 
over to Hester, and a bundle of letters. 

“ Here's a packet of Leichardt's Town clavers for you, 
Gretta; and Miss Gauntlett, two, three, four English big 
'uns. " 

“ There won't be so many after a mail or two," said 
Desmond in a melancholy tone. “ Sure, and it's thirty- 
two blood relations I've got over in the old'counthry, and 
not a line from one of them, barring my mother." 

“ That's from the meat-preserving place. Sib, I'd bet," 
continued Mr. Reay; “ I thought they'd be after a mob. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


171 


Here, Durnford, tivo for you. This looks like a lawyer’s 
fist. Winch and Hellyar. Their office-mark isn’t a nice 
sight for sore eyes — at least, I don’t think so.” 

“I hope you haven’t been getting into the ^ clutches of 
the law, Mr. Durnford,” said Gretta. 

Durnford had taken the letter, and was opening it ap- 
parently with some anxiety. He uttered a faint ejaculation 
as he read, then laughed in a rather odd way to himself, 
and folded up the document, and transferred it to his 
pocket. 

“ No, Miss Reay,” he said. ‘‘ Poor men don’t need 
lawyers, but Winch and Hellyar are a sort of standing ad- 
dress wliich I give, and I occasionally get a communication 
through them.” , 

He moved away, and presently left the veranda and 
crossed over to his own quarters. 

“ Queer fish, Durnford,” murmured Olephane. Let’s 
hear the home news, Isabel,” and the uncle and niece put 
their heads together over Lady Hetherington’s epistle, 
which somehow smote Isabel with a chill: it was so stiff 
and unspontaneous. 

Meanwliile, Ryan had been watering his pack-horse, but 
now turned to remark: 

“ There’s a bit of news you won’t get in the mail, Mr. 
Reay. Captain Rainbow, as he calls himself, has stuck up 
a digger on the road to Moonbags, and taken his haul. 
The constables are after him, but they say he is in hiding 
at the head of the Eura up among the gorges, and they ain’t 
likely to get at him there. You’ll be having him bailing 
you up here, sir. ” 

No fear of that,” returned Mr. Reay. ‘‘No such 
luck! I’d soon make short work of him. What is it, 
Braddick? You are not funking the bushrangers, are you?” 

Braddick had moved forward with an involuntary ex- 
clamation. He checked himself, and said quietly, “ I hap- 
pen to have seen Rainbow once, that’s all. I was bushed 
one night, a few months ago, up in the Blue Mountain dis- 
trict, and came by accident upon his camp. I’ll tell you 
about it another time.” 

“ After we have read our letters,” said Gretta. “ I 
mustn’t talk of eucalyptic cloisterdom again. This is quite 
romantic and Geoffrey Hamlynish. Perhaps he wears ar- 
mor like Ned Kelly. ^ ’ 


1?2 . 


THE HEAD RTATIOH. 


‘‘ That Kelly business was a mistake/^ jerked out Mr. 
Eeay; ‘‘ too much romance and sensationalism altogether! 
Every twopenny-halfpenny ruffian who takes to the bush 
apes Ned Kelly. I^d hang ^em all if I could. IM stamp 
bushranging out of Australia. Girls, there’s a letter from 
Catesby. I must start for Leichardt’s Town to-morrow. 
They’ve offered me ‘ Works;’ and Dawkes is going to bring 
forward another Kail way Bill.” 

Some jubilation followed. Mr. Reay was like a w'ar- 
horse, which scented the battle from .afar. But he eyed 
doubtfully another long blue envelope, and seemed in per- 
turbation of spirit. 

‘‘The papers about Karslake’s murder are in this,” he 
said; “it’s from Hill of the police. If Comongin is guilty 
they’ll want me to give him up. I shall not do that, for he 
has been a faithful friend to meior many a year; but I 
must turn him off Doondi. Now I shall not open these 
papers till after the blacks have had their spree to-night, 
and then we must have our reckoning— Comongin and I.” 

Mr. Reay turned away, and went into his office, taking 
the papers with him. 

“ What is the story?” asked Bertram Wyatt, looking 
round. 

“ Why,” said Clephane, “ I’ve long suspected that my 
father-in-law was harboring a criminal, but he never would 
entertain the idea till, as I suppose is the case now, the 
truth forced itself upon him. I am only surprised that he 
does not immediately give Comongin up to the police. It 
would be quite in keeping with his character, wouldn’t it, 
Mollie: But I imagine that, with his stern sense of justice, 
he feels that there are some arguments on the black’s side. 
The story is this — Karslake was a government surveyor, 
employed in old days to mark out the boundary of the 
Eura. The blacks sneaked the camp, and murdered the 
whole party, except two men, who hid themselves, and 
after a bit managed to get down to Leichardt’s Town. 
Some of the blacks were caught and punished; but the 
ring-leader, whom I imagine to have been Comongin, es- 
caped. ” 

“ And Mr. Reay,” inquired Wyatt, “ how was he con- 
cerned in the affair?” 

“ Oh!” explained Clephane, “ he took up land on the 
Eura a little while afterward, picked up Comongin, a young 


THE HEAD STATrOJf. 


173 

native then, and his gin, who slept at the door of his hut, 
looked after him, and, for eight months, kept the blac-ks 
from spearing him and his cattle. That was before your 
father went to Victoria, wasnT it, Sib?^^ 

Sib nodded. 

“When he came back here ten years ago, continued 
Clephane, “ Comongin, a veteran, promoted to royalty, 
turned up again, a most rare instance of loyalty among the 
blacks. Pooor old Comongin ! He has kept many a spear 
from being hurled at the Doondi and Tieryboo cattle, and 
I am sorry the authorities have raked up the matter again. 

I have no doubt that things stand pretty equal, and that 
Karslake and his men had potted niggers in their time.'’' 

The little f4te Gretta had planned took place on a flat 
not far from the stock-yard and the lobster-holes. It had 
once been a sheep-station, and was covered with the short 
couch-grass, and upon it there stood a dilapidated building 
which had been used as a wool-shed. 

Hither, after dinner, the whole party betook themselves. 
All the blacks from the camp were assembled, Comongiii 
at the head of his tribe, a conspicuous personage with his 
wliite hair, a red blanket majestically draping his half-clad 
figure, and his brass plate reflecting the gleam of a huge 
bonfire they had kindled. 

The wool-shed was decorated with green bows and creep- 
ers from the scrub. A trapeze had been erected, and two 
fencers in jerseys commenced proceedings by an acrobatic 
performance to an accompaniment of slow music from a 
concertina and a Jew's harp, played 1^ a Doondi stock- 
man and the celebrated Red Dick from Gundalunda. Ber- 
tram Wyatt sung a rollicking song, and Pat Desmond, 
with a good deal of buffoonery and a strong brogue, recited 
a scene from “ Handy Andy." 

The blacks, however, did not much relish this part of 
tlie programme; and now came the feature of the festivity 
— Gretta 's surprise. 

The shed was darkened and the natives mustered round 
a long deal table, upon which stood two shallow earth-pans 
filled with raisins and brandy, Pat Desmond and Sib pre- 
siding at one end. Captain Clephane and Braddick at the 
other; the ladies mounted on a sort of raised platform. 


174 


THE HEAT) STATION. 


which had been the shearing-floor, and which commanded 
a full view of all that was going on. 

The blacks pressed round the table, twenty or thirty 
pairs of eyes peering eagerly into the dishes, while a con- 
fused jabber filled the room. Suddenly, the last light was 
extinguished, and a match put to the brandy. The blue 
and red flames leaped up, flickered, and blazed again, shed- 
ding Eembrandtesque gleams and shadows. They played 
upon the slab walls, the dark rafters, the tattooed breasts 
of the savages, and the ebony faces, now alive with expec- 
tation and now with alarm and awe, which changed pres- 
ently to the most farcical amusement. 

At first, a yell rang through the shed, then shrieks of 
“ debbil! debbil!^^ and there was a pell-mell retreat on the 
part of the natives from the table. When, however, the 
white men were seen to dip their hands into the snapdragon, 
the savages rushed forward again; swarthy arms protruded, 
and shouts of laughter re-echoed, as black hands were 
withdrawn filled with plums and sheathed in fire. 

They danced, they screamed, they rubbed their fingers 
on their bodies, and shook them wildly in the air, while 
flashes of blue flame flew hither and thither; then, cram- 
ming the plums into their mouths, again essayed the fiery 
ordeal. 

By and by salt was thrown into the pans. The white 
men s faces assumed a deathly hue, and the illumination 
became ghastly and hellish. Tliis was the culminating 
point. Black boys and gins clung frantically to each other, 
and retreated and advanced, yelling anew in mingled terror 
and delight. Now, the burning spirit was extinguished, 
and the lanterns relit. 

As soon as the laughter had subsided the blacks made a 
circle round the bonfire on the flat. The gins, in the outer 
ring, clapped their hands and chanted monotonously to the 
music of tumtums and rude wind instruments. The elder 
men beat their nulla-nullas and waved their spears; while 
Pompo and two or three companion braves — their upper 
clothing cast off, fantastic patterns painted in white and 
yellow upon their bare chests and backs — stepped into the 
arena and executed a grotesque dance, in which, with a 
wild war-whoop, the advancing chorus joined at intervals. 

It was the weirdest spectacle Isabel had ever beheld. The 
moonlight blended curiously with the glow of the burning 


THE HEAD STATION. 


175 


logs, and the rhythmic movement of the half -naked forms, 
the swaying of barbaric weapons, the unearthly music, 
combined, perhaps, with the magnetic influence which 
Braddick^s voice and presence exercised upon her, wrought 
upon her imagination, so that, for the moment, it was diffi- 
cult to realize that she was not feeling and acting in a 
dream. 

The corroboree was over all too soon, and the blacks dis- 
missed to their camps, but, as they were turning away, 
after a general good-night had been said, Mr. Reay, who 
had been grave and silent during the evening, came out of 
the wool-shed, and in stern accents, called upon Oomongin 
to remain. The old king lowered his spear and the nulla- 
nulla he was carrying on his shoulder, and stood forth, 
with the fire-light upon him, a squalid tragi-comic, and yet 
not altogether unheroic, representative of aboriginal mon- 
archy. The black^s intuition is keen, and something in Mr. 
^Reay^s tone warned him that his hour was come. 

Comongin, said the squatter, what for you tell me 
that baal you been mumkull Karslake? That corbon long 
time; but baal mine forget. I believe you plenty woolla.'’^ 

Then Mr. Reay proceeded to explain that the “ Great 
White Mary along a big fellow water — in other words, 
the queen — had discovered, beyond doubt, that Oomongin 
had been concerned in the murder of her brother Karslake, 
and had sent her orders, through her servants the white 
chiefs in Leichardt^s Town, requiring that he, Mr. Reay, 
should give up Oomongin to be shot. 

“ Baal mine shoot you, Oomongin,'’^ he continued, “ be- 
cause long time you budgery brother belonging to me, but 
suppose you nangry along a Doondi, big White Mary cor- 
bon coolla with me.^’ 

Then sentence was delivered. Oomongin was deprived of 
the rights of brotherhood from henceforth. Kever more 
should he set foot within the boundaries of Doondi, Tiery- 
boo, or Gundalunda. Never more should he receive rations 
or tobacco at the hands of those present. Oomongin was 
excommunicated, and bidden to ‘^yan forever. 

The old king uttered one long dismal howl, which was 
caught up by the tribe behind till the bush resounded with 
cries of woe.*^ Mrs. Blaize put in a sobbing protest. 

Dear heart, Duncan, and is this what ye call pea<3e and 
good will? Let him be — just for my sake! He"s a black, 


176 


THE HEAD STATION. 


and I'm just soft about blacks. They're an awful unre- 
generate set; but don't I know what it is to be an unprofit- 
able servant? Let him stop." 

“ Judith, be silent; he must be sent away." 

‘‘ Then I'll just go back to my own old man and try to 
conyince him of the error of Ins own thoughts, and be you 
thankful, Isabel, that you've got nothing to do with men 
— though you will fast enough," murmured Mrs. Blaize, in 
an aside; they're a stiff-necked, hard-hearted, contradict- 
oiy lot." 

But, after the one outburst, Oomongin met his fate like 
a discrowned king, with a fortitude which was at once far- 
cical and pathetic. He silenced his followers by a sharp 
injunction in their own yabber, and then approached Mr. 
Reay. 

Yohi," he said, holding his sj^ear planted firmly before 
him. ‘‘ Mine yan. Mine been mumkull Karslake. What 
for?" he went on, raising his head, and gazing indignantly 
before him. ‘‘ What for white man come and sit dowft 
close-up Eura, and mumkull poor fellow black? ‘ White 
man got plenty flour, plenty tschugar, plenty blanket, 
plenty chimbacco. Black fellow want him flour, want him 
blanket. Baal white man giye. White man marra gin 
belonging to black fellow. Tflien black fellow mumkull, 
and white man plenty coolla. What for? Baal black fel- 
low pidney. Reay budgery you. Budgery you Gretta. 
Corbon mine brother belonging to you. Plenty mine along 
a Doondi. Good-bye, Massa. Mine yan. " 

Without another word, Oomongin folded his old red 
blanket about him, shouldered his spear, and departed. 
And Doondi saw his face no more. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A BUSH PICNIC. 

A w^EEK was gone by. Mr. Reay had made his journey 
to Xeichardt's Town, and returned — duly appointed Minis- 
ter for Works— to superintend the last of the muster, and 
start the mob of cattle for the north, ere he settled himself 
in town for the business of the session. 

It was the last day of the old year — the day fixed for 
Gretta's long-planned camping-out expedition. 


THE HEAD STATION, 177 

The week had passed like a dream. Lovers spells work 
quickly in southern sunshine and silvery moonlight. 

Gretta was possessed by a feverish unrest, a delicious 
trouble such as she had never known before, and which she 
alternately shrunk from and reveled in. Ferguson-’s heart 
ached drearily, but he bore his pain like a man. Bertram 
Wyatt had yielded himself completely to the intoxication of 
the hour — moonlight rambles, nerve-thrillings when hands 
touched and voice vibrated, long looks, dreamy talks; and 
the flattering homage to manly vanity paid in blushes and 
quickly averted glances. These were sufficient to shut out 
visions of past or future. 

Braddick, in his turn, was buoyantly, unreasonably 
happy. He, too, had thrust responsibility from him, and 
lived in the present. He was natural, at his ease, and, 
under the influence of congenial society and of a subtle 
sweet sympathy, had cast aside his former reserve and con^ 
straint. He talked freely to Isabel, imprudently perhaps, 
upon all subjects in which they had a common interest — 
music, art, Australian impressions, his European experi- 
ences, only pulhng himself up when he found “ Old 
Gold’s ” jealous eyes fixed upon him with an expression 
wliich was full of meaning. In the day-time Mr. Gustavus 
had the field to himself, for Braddick was out on the run, 
or working at the head-station, but in the evening he was 
forced to retire into the background, and it was then he sat 
apart and brooded on schemes of vengeance. 

Isabel, meeting her fate in more tranquil fashion than 
Gretta, accepted the change that had come upon her with- 
out self-analysis, and no more coquetted with emotion than 
she ^ould have coquetted with a man whom she did not in- 
tend to marry. A woman may be slow in owning to her- 
self that she loves and is beloved, but, by intuition, she is 
nevertheless dimly aware of the fact; and the consciousness 
which, as is the case in all loftier attachments, has crept at 
the first meeting into her heart, forces itself forward in its 
own time, and, to a noble woman, becomes a spiritual truth, 
a holy obligation, which it would be sacrilege and treason 
to resist. 

And Hester and Durnford! Love was now their master, 
flffie brood of emotions born that day of avowal had grown 
with frightful rapidity into an imperious army, against 
ivhich it were vain to struggle, Passion throbbed in them 


178 


THE HEAD STATIOJST. 


both with quicker pulse-beats, and caresses had become to 
them as stern a necessity of existence as food and drink. 

Just at first, their intercourse had been placid and guard- 
ed, and had soothed rather than excited. They talked of 
their love, but as of something too sacred for expression in 
act. They called it friendship. They spoke of soul com- 
munion, and of the ideal wings upon which affection rises 
above the plane of materiality. And, as they grew elo- 
quent, their fingers would creep together and their lips meet 
tremblingly. A world of innocent joy seemed opened to 
them by the kiss; and why turn away? Gould that be 
wrong which was so beautiful? Could that be poisonous 
which was so sweet? 

Sometimes they would start asunder overcome by vague 
terror: and brief periods of reaction would follow. Then, 
each alone — for it seemed a shame, an insult to the purity 
of their motives, so to buckle and steel themselves against 
each other — each would silently resolve to abstain from 
draughts of the intoxicating nectar. There would be a 
tacit drawing apart, an avoidance of meetings in the lonely 
cave, nights of self-infiicted torture, mutual misconcep- 
tions, and at last the mingling of hearts once more. 

The httle procession was winding up the range. They 
had rpunded Mount Oomongm, and had left plains and tim- 
bered ridges far behind. Now they were in dense scrub 
where the bottle-trees rose weird and white, where the 
stately bunya- branches drooped, weighted with their heavy 
cones, and the quantongs shed their berries. Long withes, 
sometimes coiled like snakes, hung from the upper boughs 
— dangerous traps for the unwary. The girls'’ habits were 
torn by thorny undergrowth, nettles stung the horses’ legs, 
and rotten timber crackled beneath their hoofs. 

Two black boys pioneered. The rest followed in single 
file. Every now and then, there was a shout from Combo 
or his companion, ‘‘ Look out, Gretta. Big fellow, 
’guana!” or, “ Plenty gammon White Mary! What for 
ride along a scrub, when corbon budgery road close up 
humpey?” 

The tomahawks sounded cheerfully as the boys “ blazed ” 
a track for the return. It was a rough way, up stone 
ridges, down steep gullies, over break-neck rocks, and for- 
ward again — ever ascending. 


THE HEAP STATION". 


179 

Then a break in the scrub, and a precipitous rise, where 
they were obliged to dismount, and lead their horses. A 
rocky knoll gained; and now, a glorious view backwaixi 
toward the ragged fringe of scrub, where red Moreton Bay 
pines and gaunt gums stood forth, hoaiy with moss, the 
untouched growth of years, and beyond, again, endless 
waves of forest and hill. 

It was almost dusk when the highest point below Great 
Comongin was reached. This was a sort of excrescence of 
the mountain on its other side, and so invisible from 
Boondi. They stood upon a tiny plateau surrounded by 
gray volcanic-looking bowlders, and the world lay below. 
The sun had set, but the glory of him lingered. ‘ A grim 
peak far to the west was outlined against the flaming track 
he had left. In the east, there stretched, barring the hori- 
zon, a jagged fantastic line of mountains — the Tieryboo 
range — strange humps of rock, great precipices, irregular 
pyramids. These were faintly pink; and lo! ere many 
moments, they had become rose, deep crimson, dark and 
darker violet. 

This spot had been chosen for the camping-place. The 
pack-horse was unladen, and the others hobbled and turned 
to grass. A small tent was pitched for the accommodation 
of the less robust ladies of the party. Gretta would have 
none. She must lie, she said, with her face to the sky, and 
her saddle for a pillow. The black boys were cutting grass 
and grass-tree tops, and strewing them upon the ground. 
The fire had been lighted, the saddle-bags unpacked, Mr. 
Clephane and Pat Desmond were boiling quart-pot tea. 
Some of the gentlemen prepared chops for broiling, Mr. 
Reay spread out an array of pannikins, and Sib was cutting 
newly peeled bark into plates and dishes. 

Captain Clephane stood for a few moments wrapped in 
contemplation of the landscape. He had a great deal to say 
about Australian scenery as compared with that of other 
countries. 

Magnificent!^^ he cried. “ Talk of American mount- 
ains — they are too big — too overpowering. Here you have 
the effect within the limits of comprehension. There's a 
bit^ of coloring; and what a foreground! I wish I had 
brought my photographic apparatus. " 

This was the key-note to a discussion on photography, 
Mr. Gustavus Blaize remarking in his pedantic manner — 


180 


THE HEAD STATION. 


It combines the advantages of pre-Raphaelism with a 
breadth, a scope, a greater accuracy — an absence of petty 
.detail.'^ AVhereupon the conversation turned abruptly 
upon the pre-Kaphaelite school, and a picture painted some 
years back by one of its representatives was instanced.^ 
The painting had certain features, concerning which the 
two opinions differed. An argument arose, which only a 
person who had closely studied the work in question, and 
the method of the artist, could have settled. Brad dick, 
leaning against the bowlder close by, had been listening 
with interest to the colloquy. Suddenly he broke in; and, 
in reference to the mooted points, described the painting 
with such vividness and accuracy that Olephane uttered an 
ejaculation of surprise. 

“ I ought to know that picture, said Braddick, with an 
absent, half -melancholy laugh; “ I\e sat opposite it for 
long enough at a time. It used to be my refuge from the 
county bores at a — . 

He stopped shoid, and gave himself a little savage shake, 
and there passed over his face the reckless, self -indignant 
look, which a man may wear when he sees that he has com- 
mitted a blunder. He met old Gnstavus Blaize^s eyes. 
They were fixed upon him, and alight with a gleam of flash- 
ing comprehension, blending with curiosity and triumph. 

‘‘At a dull dinner-party, perhaps,’^ put in Mr. Gus- 
tavus. “ That picture was bought, some time after its first 
exhibition, by Colonel Westmoreland, of Glen Wold, and 
hangs in the dining-room at that place. Curious what a 
chain of associations may be lost for want of one small link. 
You have just supplied me with such a link, Mr. Braddick. 

I was staying in the neighborhood of Glen Wold for a day 
or two, during my last visit to England, and my friends 
took me over to see it. Colonel Westmoreland and his wife 
were abroad, but we were shown all over the house. There 
were some family portraits also. I now recall them dis- 
tinctly. Strange — strange and he chuckled maliciously. 

Brodick looked him full in the face. 

“You have a good memory, Mr. Blaize,^^ he said, and 
turned away. 

“Glen Wold,^^ said Clephane, “ that^s in Devonshire. 
I remember meeting a Colonel Westmoreland woodcock- 
shooting with Hetherington— the only time I ever was at 
Heatherleigh. In those days nothing short of the best was 


THE HEAT) STATTOX. 


181 


good enough for me. Isabel, you are an authority. 
Whereas Glen Wold? Have you ever been there ?^' 

“ No, Uncle Jack,^^ returned Isabel. ‘‘ It is more on 
the Dartmoor side. Louisa knew the Westmorelands very 
well, and stayed there once or twice, but I never went with 
her. I think Mrs. Westmoreland is delicate, and that 
lately they have lived abrdad a good deal.^-’ 

Isabel had been watching Brad dick. She saw how he 
had pulled himself together, noticed the expression of his 
face, and a quivering fear smote her. Dim thoughts began 
to shape themselves. More than once she had asked herself 
the questions, “ Why is he here? Is it disgrace which has- 
driven him from his home?’"’ And then her heart had 
always proudly answered, “No; lie can have dbne nothing 
which would dishonor him. ” So her heart replied now, 
but, underlying the assurance, there was a feeling of 
trouble, of vague doubt. Then, as she looked westerly 
toward the distant mountains, unheeding the chatter and 
buzz of preparation around her, she thought of her dream 
in the railway carriage — of the eyes which had gazed so 
steadfastly into hers — of the words, “ love is faith. 

An Alpine call echoed back from the rocky side of 
Comongin, which towered not far from the lesser mount- 
ain, the unwonted sound startling the rock-wallabies and 
caused the browsing horses to turn their heads and whinny 
in return. Clephane and Wyatt executed an effective 
jodelling chorus, and young Joe shouted, with unusual gal- 
lantry, 

“ Three cheers for the first girls that have got atop of 
Little Comongin 

“ Come along with you,^^ said Mr. Eeay; “ the tea is 
infused, and IM like fine to see those chops done. Keep 
your cheers till you have found the Myalls' Wafcerhole." 

“ That mysterious water-hole," said Gretta. “I've all 
sorts of uncanny fancies about it. Isn't it odd that no 
white man has come across it?" 


“ Very odd that Clephane hasn't done so in his many 
hunts after wild pigs and Tieryboo ^ scubbert, ' " said Fer- 
guson, with forced gayety. The j)igs and the “ Tieryboo 
scrubbers " were rather a chaff in the district against 
Clephane. 

“The blacks say debbil debbil lives there, and that 


182 


THE HEAD STATION. 


there '’s a cave near it full of dead men^s bones/ ^ said Mol- 
lie. 

Sure, and it^s the grub we^ll tackle now/^ cried Des- 
mond, lifting a fizzing chop; and the boys exclaimed, 

“ Here^s a feast for the native dogs to-morrow! My 
word, just listen to them howling!^^ 

Fitful bursts of dismal wailing proceeded from the scrub, 
but they were soon drowned by the clatter at the camp — 
the peais of merriment, and the flavor of gum-tree, which 
the bark plates imparted to the mutton-chops. When the 
rough repast was over, some one proposed music. 

It was night now, and the full moon, a fiery globe, rose 
slowly behind the distant peak. Of the kind, no more 
weird or picturesque scene could be imagined. The wild 
surroundings, gray bowlders, forest, mountains, the ntter 
loneliness and vastness of the bush, and the deep-blue sky 
overhead, gemmed with brilliant constellations. In the 
foreground, the camp-fire, with its logs blazing np, and 
throwing broad dickering gleams athwart the rock-bound 
plateau, and upon the circle of picnickers. Combo and 
Billy stood in the rear, limbs and eyes dancing. The men 
lounged in easy attitudes; some smoking, some cutting 
tobacco, their saddles beside them. Isabel and Gretta sat 
enthroned on a rug-covered log, their pretty figures show- 
ing to advantage in close-fitting habits, their heads bare. 
Mollie’s fair plaits were touched with gold, and her some- 
what heavy features spiritualized by the half-lights; while 
Hester, almost entirely in shadow, her still pale face up- 
turned, looked at that moment the incarnation of a poet^s 
dream. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

TAKEN ON TRUST. 

Music was proposed, and Clephane, who had a good 
barytone voice, led off with an Australian ballad. But the 
native dogs^ howl swelled louder. It was the eeriest, most 
heart-breaking sound. 

Oh! this wonT do,^’ exclaimed Mr. Reay; “we shall 
none of us get any sleep to-night. Who is for a go at the 
dingoes?'^ 

“ Oh!’^ sighed Clephane, “ the noise is very horrible; 
but it is so in harmony with the scene. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


1S3 

Call that harmonious?^’ shrieked Joe, derisively; here, 
you Combo, marra daloopil, and come along with me.’"’ 

Clephane’s sporting instinct conquered his sense of 
dramatic fitness. The party dispersed. Most of the men 
crept down with loaded guns toward the scrub; the others 
lingered with the ladies, who had moved away from the 
fire-lighted circle and Vere exploring the plateau. There 
was much laughter over the tracing of a water-course, with 
a view to the morning’s ablutions. Gradually the sounds 
became more distant. Isabel had drawn into the rear, and 
now stood against a rock, with her head bent and her hands 
clasped before her. She was startled by Braddick’s voice. 
She had observed that he joined the shooters. 

‘‘ I have brought you this,^'’ he said, holding out a lace- 
like woolen wrap. “You don’t take any care of yourself. ” 

“Thank you,” she threw it over her head, “I don’t 
need to be taken care of now. ” She was touched by his 
thoughtfulness, and, as she looked up, he saw tenderness 
struggling in her eyes. “ Why didn’t you go with the 
others?” she asked. 

“ I don’t care about shooting native dogs. I saw you 
here, and turned back. I wanted to be alone with you for 
a few minutes — in this place, where we shall probably never 
be together again. It is a queer wild spot, isn’t it?” 

“ I like it,” she answered, simply. 

“ So do I. Those stones look like the altars of a forgot- 
ten worship. We seem out of reach of every one — ^beyond 
the power of pitiless reality — in a world of ^ might have 
beens. ’ I shall think of to-night and of you when I am 
far away in the Yever Hevei- country, ” 

“ Istthat where you are going?” she asked mechanically. 

He laughed shortly. 

“ It sounds despairing doesn’t it? But in reality it’s 
quite a hopeful prospect for me. I may be able to take up 
good country, and sell it, and so get together a little capi- 
tal. That’s much better than knocking about in the set- 
tled districts, and going from bad to worse. ’ ’ 

“ Yes, much better,” she assented. 

“ I don’t want to buoy myself up with any hope of com- 
ing back to the Eura, or even of securing the appointment 
I told you of. ” 

“ But that is settled?” 

“ Mr. Beay may change his mind and turn me adrift, 


184 


THE HEAD STATION. 


It's very likely. In that case, the Never Never country- 
will still be my destination. But there's no use in antici- 
pating evil. If all goes well, and I start with the cattle, I 
might, if I were getting on, be back in three years. Proba- 
bly it would be much longer. At any rate, you would have 
gone away; and so to-night can never come over again. " 

There was a .silence. She seemed to wish to break it, 
and a sound passed her lips, but no words came. It was he 
who spoke first. 

“ l^ou would have gone away," he repeated, “ and you 
wouldn't see the good you have aroused in me, and which I 
hope — no, which I feel certain — will live. But that 
wouldn't matter. It would be nothnig to you." He 
paused and looked at her. Their eyes met m the moon- 
light, liis questioning, hers answering; but not before the 
words had passed her lips in an eager sort of gasp, “ It 
would be — a great deal. ' ' 

His voice deepened and faltered as he went on. “ But 
even if you didn't know, or care, the good would still re- 
main — and the memory of you." 

I should care," she said, very low. ‘‘You know 
that. " 

“ Yes,' ' he said, as if with an ett'ort, “ I think you would, 
little as I deserve it. " 

She did not speak. 

“ After all," he said, “ it isn't wonderful that you should 
feel a sort of interest in me. I am an Australian experi- 
ence to you; one which you wouldn't naturally have in 
England. There, when a man comes to grief, he drops 
away from the society of ladies." 

“You came to grief!" she said, slowly. 

“ The fact is evident, I fancy. Whatever pains one may 
take, it is difiicult to quite obliterate the hall-mark of civili- 
zation. Tliat's a brand which under existing circumstances 
ought to have warned you that I wasn't fit company for 
you. " 

“Oh! don't speak like that," she exclaimed, pierced by 
the sadness of his tone. 

“ Ho you remember the night we rode to the gorge," he 
asked, “ a,nd my saying that you had done me good; and 
that before I left Doondi I would tell you in what way? 
Shall I tell you now?" 

“ Yes." 


THE HEAD STATION. 


185 


‘ ‘ You have given me back something which was very 
jirecious to me once, and which I thought I had entirely 

‘‘ What is that?'^ she asked. 

My belief in women; my belief in goodness; my faith 
in God. You have given me back my ideal. IsnH that 
worth something?^-’ 

“ Oh!’^ she murmured, ‘‘ it is worth all the world. 

“ It^s worth all the world/'’ he repeated. ‘‘No one 
knows how blank life can be till he has tried living without 
it. Now you know what I have to be grateful to you 
for. 

Another pause. A volley of shot from the scrub. The 
dingoes were silent, but the curlews wailed now. Suddenly 
Isabel said, 

“ But you had them all the time — faith and trust and 
goodness. You only fancied that you had lost them.^^ 

“ No/'’ he answered; “ they had gone, and they might 
never have come back again but for you. I shall like to 
think of you,'’^ he went on softly, “ up in the Never Never 
country when I am alone — in my hut or camping-out after 
the day'’s rough work is done.'’^ 

“ You will be very lonely,^'’ she interposed hurriedly, 
with a thrill of womanly pity in her voice; “ you will have 
no books or companions — or anything. 

“ That doesn'’t matter,'’'’ he said; “I am always lonely. 
But I shall be less so there, for in fancy I shall see you.” 
She moved slightly, and he added, “ DonT be angry with 
me for feeling in this way. It can do you no harm. ^'’ 

“ I arn not angry, she said, “ butIdidnT think — '” she 
paused abruptly, and by the moonlight he saw the blush 
wliich crept over her face. 

“ You didnT think he repeated. 

“ It seems so strange that you should think of me like 
that."" 

“Not strange,"" he returned. “ It seems to me the most 
natural and beautiful thing in all the world. But some- 
thing is wonderful,"" he continued deliberately: “ it is that 
you should take me on trust as you do, and admit me to 
your friendship. How do you know — how does any one 
know — that I have not forfeited the right to be talking to 
you as T am now?"" 

“ Oh, no!’" she exclaimed. 


186 


THE HEAT) STATION. 


‘‘ You believe in me?’"’ lie asked, looking- at her gravel}^ 

She met his gaze straightly. She felt that the moment 
was too solemn for shy hesitation or flimsy pretense. Truth 
was paramount. He was asking for her trust. She must 
give it freely or deny it him wholly. 

“ I do beheve in you/'’ she replied. 

The next instant she saw in his face how full of impoi*t 
had been his question. He heaved a sort of sigh. 

‘‘ Thank you,^^ he answered, simply. 

After a minute^s silence he said: 

“ I had better tell you that your faith may, ere long, re- 
ceive a shock. If I am not mistaken, Mr. Gustavus Blaize 
is aware of something in my past life, which he wilJ 
probably repeat to my discredit.'’^ 

“ But you — there is nothing?^^ 

“ Oh, yesl^^ he answered sadly; “ there is just everything 
—all that brought me out here and separated me from my 
own people. And I can not tell you whether the story is 
true or false. If I am accused, I can not deny my guilt. 
That’s the worst of it.'’'’ 

“ Accused!'” she cried, her face blanching. “ Of what?” 

“ Don’t ask me for the story — I couldn’t tell it. If 
some one else does, you will hear and condemn me.” 

“ I have said that I believed in you, Mr. Braddick — I 
didn’t say that lightly.” 

He seemed to wince. 

Braddick is not my name,” he said, slowly. “ I took 
it — not because I wanted to hide my own — I didn’t care 
enough — but for the sake of other people who did care.” 

Ah!” she exclaimed, a flash of brightness crossing her 
face. “ I understand. It was all for the sake of others. ” 

An involuntary movement brought her nearer to him, 
but he made no answering gesture. There was something 
like dread in his eyes, which were fastened on her. 

“ I am certain that it is so,” she went on, her voice 
vibrating with an emotion of which in her earnestness she 
was unconscious. “ Ho matter what anybody tells me, I 
shall keep that belief; and you can’t — ^you could not — take 
it away from me.” 

There was a questioning appeal in the last words which- 
thrilled him with anguish. It was a revelation of her feel- 
ings toward him, and it came upon him with a shock of ter- 
ror and remorse. The sweet mystery which had surrounded 


THE HEAD STATION". 


187 


their relations toward each other vanished in a second. He 
had sunned himself in the warmth of her sympathy, fear- 
ing no danger for her, and taking a reckless joy in his own 
riSc. What did it matter for him? he thought. He loved 
her as he might worship a star. The bare suggestion that 
he could inspire her with any sentiment but gentle pity had 
seemed too fantastic, too improbable, for serious considera- 
tion. He had thrust it aside, with a jeer at his own 
vanity. Time was when women had been attracted by him 
— but now — ! 

Yes! but now, as this young English girl, of his own 
caste, from his own country, blushed and recoiled before 
the expression of his face — something stronger than tender- 
ness betraying itself in her eyes and voice — and maidenly 
pride in her battling with true womanliness — he realized in 
a passion of humility and of self-reproach into what strait 
he had blindly led her, and cursed himself for the sorrow 
he had brought upon her. 

He turned away. A groan escaped him as he flung his 
arms across the bowlders, and for an instant laid his head 
against them. 

Presently he raised it. She had moved back, and was 
standing timid and downcast, one little hand, dead-white in 
the moonlight, resting on the brown rock. He had a wild 
desire to cover it with his own, but restrained himself. 
On the opposite side of the plateau voices sounded. The 
two parties were returning, and were cooeeing to each 
other. 

I canT let you think that I have been ill-used,^'’ said 
Braddick, in shaken tones. “ It wouldnT be right — and 
— it wouldnT be true. I have done a mean thing in laying 
myself out to get your sympathy. I had no right to ask 
you if you believed in me. You mustn’t. You imistYt. 
For God’s sake don’t glorify me in your imagination. 
Don’t think of me as a sort of hero. It would be a disap- 
pointment to you to be undeceived; and whatever bad thing 
I might have done in my life, to give you pain would be a 
worse one.” 

Isabel said nothing. The silence seemed long. She 
looked away from him to the camp where figures were 
flitting to and fro. The strangeness of the scene impressed 
itself upon her consciousness like a curious picture, while 
all the time she knew that he was gazing at her; and, like 


188 


THE HEAD STATION. 


a melancholy refrain, his words uttered previously repeated 
themselves in her mind, ‘‘ To-night can never come over 
again/ ^ She moved a step or two forward. 

Gretta is at the camp,^^ she said, quietly; I had 
better go back. 

They walked on without a word. Somebody called to 
them. It was Clephane, who with Sib was walking in ad- 
vance of the party from the scrub. 

Isabel, I want to show you a dingo. He^s a boomer. 
Wait here. Combo is draggmg him up behind. 

Isabel shrunk. 

‘‘ It^s dead — oh, I don’t want to see it.” 

Clephane laughed at her squeamishness. He and Brad- 
dick halted. Isabel stumbled over a loose stone and Sib 
put out his hand to help her. 

The roughened fingers closed round hers. She had a 
grateful sense of brotherliness and protection. 

‘‘ You are cold?” said Sib, looking at her with his patient 
dog-like eyes. “ I don’t think you are quite well. Are 
you?” 

“ Oh, I’m quite well, Mr. Sebastian.” 

Sib reddened. 

“ I wish you’d call me Sib. Everybody does. Sebas- 
tian is a moutliful of a name. They oughtn’t to have given 
it to a boorish sort of chap like me. ” 

“ I don’t think you are boorish. Sib. You are very 
kind.” 

‘‘ I want to be to you. Look here, Miss Gauntlett. 
I’ll do anything for you. I’d ride overland to Torres 
Straits if it would you you any good.” 

Isabel laughed sadly. 

‘‘I shouldn’t ever want anything at Torres Straits, 
Sib.” 

“ But you may nearer home. And, if you do, promise 
me that you’ll ask me.” 

I promise. Sib,” returned Isabel. 

“ You mean it?” he asked, eagerly. It’s a promise. 
I’ll remind you of it if I ever fancy the time has come.” 


THE HEAD STATION. 


189 


CHAPTER XXX. 

CAMPING OUT. 

The night passed like a disordered dream. No one 
slept much — except, perhaps, Joe, Mark, and the black 
boys, who had neither troubled hearts nor troubled diges- 
tions. The clanking of the horses'’ hobbles, the wild cries 
of night-birds, the strange shadows by which the ^vast cir- 
cuit seemed peopled, the entire novelty of the situation, 
chased slumber from most eyes. Those who disdained 
shelter wrapped themselves in their blankets— each making 
a pillow of his or her saddle — and lay in a circle round the 
dying fire. The moon shone during the early part of the 
night, and Gretta, quoting tales of moonstruck travelers, 
insisted upon wakefulness and conversation. Strange 
stories were told of bush ghosts, of phantom stockmen, and 
the hunters of lonely pools. Pat Desmond, in an awe- 
struck brogue, whispered legends of murdered diggers, and 
weird talk flowed till clouds drowned the moon and drowsy 
heads drooped, to be raised again at the groans of Mr. 
Gustavus Blaize, who had succumbed to the grasp of his 
enemy and demanded hot tea and brandy. 

Within the tent Isabel, upon her couch of grass-tree tops, 
lay long sleepless, with a terrible sense of trouble and deso- 
lation at her heart. Toward morning she dozed and 
dreamed, the pain ever present. When gray dawn crept 
up and the aromatic gums gave forth their scent and the 
air became alive with the shivering twitter of little birds, 
shouts of “ A Happy New-year to you rang among the 
rocks, and all were astir. They saw the sun rise and kiss 
the mountains, while every hill and crag blushed at his 
salutation. -Then, after a hurried breakfast, the party 
mounted again. They, folio wed downward a gorge where 
ferns grew rank, where crimson^iennedia and hoy a tapestried 
the rocks, and the little pools were covered with iridescent 
film. Over a ridge, wattle-grown, golden feathers brush- 
ing them as they passed, and leaving fragrance with them; 
into the scrub again, with its majesty of hoary pines, its 
heavy earthy perfume, its wonders of berry and blossom, 


190 


THE HEAD STATION. 


its gloom of greenery. In the center, as it seemed, of the 
wilderness progress was barred. A deep ravine divided the 
scrub, its sides too precipitous for foothold of horse. Here 
NatuiVs mightiest forces had been at work. The earth 
was scarred and lacerated, the ravine bed rifted and 
draggled, stones piled pell-mell, chasms yawning black and 
unfathomable. In one spot the water-course widened into a 
lonely pool, begirt with dank arums and deadly-looking 
shrubs and creepers. The rocks were high, grim, and 
black. There was a boom of falling water, and an abrupt 
drop of some hundred feet, and then a little passage, rock- 
bound, leading into mysterious depths of scrub. At this 
obstacle there was a halt. Combo shook his head, and, re- 
marking, ‘‘ Debbil debbil sit down close up; mine nangry 
along a massa,^ refused to go further. The horses were 
hobbled. Mr. Eeay, declaring that his exploring days were 
over, elected to remain, boil the quart-pot tea, and arrange 
the midday camp. Molhe, the housewife, having in view 
the scanty store of preserves at Tieryboo, preferred the 
profitable occupation of gathering wild plums, which were 
plentiful here, to the fascination of the mysterious cave and 
water-hole. 

‘‘ Sure, and Ik’s after scrub-turkeys that Joe and 1^11 be 
looking,^ ^ cried Pat Desmond, shouldering his gun; and 
Braddick, waiting first to see whether Isabel meant to join 
Hester and adventurous Gretta in crossing the ravme, de- 
cided to accompany Pat. 

He had avoided her all the morning, and, quiet and very 
silent, had ridden ahead with Sib and the boys. Isabel, 
thus deserted, fell a prey to Mr. Gustavus^’s amorous as- 
siduities. Old Gold was in high spirits. The apparent 
coldness between Miss Gauntlett and Braddick augured 
well, he thought, for the success of his own suit, which he 
was determined to press at the first favorable occasion. 
The pedestrian expedition offered an opportunity; and, 
though he hesitated for an instant before braving the perils 
of the precipice, love conquered cowardice, and he plunged 
boldly forward. • 

' The three ladies shortened their habits with saddle-straps, 
and armed themselves with stout climbiitg-poles. Wyatt, 
strong agile, and an Alpine mountaineer, offered Gretta his 
aid. Ferguson stood aloof, trimming his staff. She glanced 
timidly toward him, and then at Bertram, who interpreted 


THE HEAD STATTOH. .191 

her hesitation, and, man-like, felt the sting of rivalry. He 
fixed his eyes on Gretta, and said in a low tone, 

“ You needn^t be afraid. I^m a better climber than you 
fancy. Come, give me your hand.^^ 

She surrendered it, and they took the lead; the others 
following by twos. Clinging to sapling-gums, and balanc- 
ing themselves by their poles, they at last accomplished the 
descent. 

Torn but triumphant they sent up shouts from the bed 
of the ravine, which were answered by cooees from above. 
They had come down slantwise, along a sort of gully bris- 
tling with tooth-like bowlders, above and below, which were 
beetling cliffs with ledges and crannies that afforded foot- 
hold only to yurds and rock wallabies. 

The glen, which seemed gouged out of Mount Comongin's 
side, closed in here, pent by scrub-grown ranges. Broken 
and inaccessible precipices alternated with patches of mallee 
and spinnifex, grim peaks towering above like the battle- 
ments of a titanic citadel; while Comongin's summit 
showed through a rift at the upper end, and a small stream 
of water, having its rise in a mountain spring, flowed down 
the higher ravine and discharged itself over a wall of rock 
into the dark pool, beside which the little party stood. 

What do you say to it?" cried Clephane enthusiastic- 
ally, waving his hand, and turning to Isabel. 

“ It's splendid. Uncle Jack." 

“ ‘ A wilderness of sweets for nature here 
Wantoned as in her prime,’ ” 

quoted Mr. Gustavus, a little breathlessly. 

‘‘ Don't say, when you go back to England, that Aus- 
tralian scenery is all dead flat and gum-trees, " continued 
Clephane. 

‘‘Where are we?" asked Hester. “Is this the water- 
hole?" 

“ No, no!" cried Gretta. “ This is explored country. 
Sib knows all about it. The water-hole is somewhere in the 
scrub close by, and the cave also. But the blacks have a 
tradition about the place. They used to come here once 
for red earth to paint themselves with for their corroborees 
and the Bora; but they say that Piiyume, the misty one, 
drove them away, and now they will go no further than 
this water-fall, which is the source of the Doonbah." 


192 


THE HEAD -iTATIOH. 


‘‘ What is the Borar^^ asked Isabel of Sib. 

“ It’s an aboriginal mystery, a ceremony of initiation,” 
he replied. ‘‘A black would allow himself to be killed 
rather than betray the secret of the Bora. ’ ’ 

“ It surprises me,” said Mr. Gustavus, that the Aus- 
tralian literature, such as it is, ignores all the poetry of 
aboriginal traditions. Mr. Durnford, has it never struck 
you that you may be the creator of an Australian Hiawatha?’ 

“Yes,” replied Durnford, quietly. “But the Eura 
blacks don’t lend themselves to poetic fancy.” 

Gretta turned impatiently. 

“ Oh! don’t try to throw a halo of romance over the 
blacks’ vulgar superstitions and dirty ways,” said she. 
“ 'No etfort of your imagination, Mr. Durnford, will trans- 
form Combo into a Red Indian hero. ” 

She moved a little apart from the rest, who also began to 
disperse, and amused themselves by examining nooks and 
crannies. 

“ Why do you despise Australia?” asked Wyatt, follow- 
ing her. 

“ I don’t despise it,” she rephed, with a little thrill in 
her voice. “ It’s very well in its way; but I want more. ” 

They halted close to the water-fall. He leaned against 
the stump of a tree, in one of his easy picturesque attitud^, 
and taking otf his felt hat twisted round it a withe of crim- 
son kennedia, then put it on again. 

“ That’s very becoming,” said Gretta,. with slight scorn. 

He laughed. 

“ Shall I adorn yours?” 

“No, thank you,” she replied. 

“ I know what you want,” he said, deliberately. 

She looked at him but did not speak. 

“ It isn’t a wider arena,” he went on. 

She shook her head. 

“ No,” he said. “ Insatiable desire for conquest is often 
the secret of discontent. But it isn’t so with you. If that 
is what you care about, I should think your craving might 
be fully gratified even here.” 

“ Doesn’t it occur to you that wounded vanity may be at 
th6 bottom of it all?” said Gretta, with her light laugh. 
“ Look at my faithless adorer ” — with a motion of her 
head she indicated Mr. Gustavus Blaize, who a little way 
off was bending in a lover-like attitude ovej* Miss Gauntlett. 


THE HEAD STATTOH. 193 

He is proposing, or, if not, the crisis is imminent. I 
know all the symptoms. 

Wyatt laughed in return: “Ho, no, vanity has nothing 
to do with it. The excitement of flirtation wouldn’t satisfy 
you. You are thirsting for something much sweeter and 
more intoxicating. 

“ What is that?” she asked quickly. 

“ Love,” he answered, looking at her full. “ That^s 
the wine of life. ” 

She did not return his gaze, and the laugh under which 
she tried to hide her embarrassment was a failure. 

“It’s a beverage that perhaps one is as well without,” 
she replied, hardly. “ Certainly it often leaves disagreea- 
ble effects. ” 

“ There are different kinds,” he said. “ Some are like 
bad champagne. ” 

“ At all events you speak from experience,” returned 
Gretta, with a touch of her old spirit. “ And — and — ” she 
stopped with a little tremble of her lips, then the words 
burst forth as though involuntarily. “ If. I were a woman 
you had loyed, and who loved you still, that speech would 
cure me of my folly. ” 

Her dart seemed to sting him. He shifted from his easy 
position and stood upright, disconcerted and very serious. 

“I see what you think. You do me injustice. lam 
not quite a cad. To the women who were loyal to me I 
have been always loyal and true.” 

“True!” she repeated with sarcasm, which, alas, poor 
Gretta! she used as a weapon, conscious all the time of its 
being an undignified one. “ Can a person be true many 
times over?” 

“ There was never even one time,” he -exclaimed; “ the 
woman I cared for jilted me. Do you think I wouldn’t 
have waited faithfully for HermioneBaldock if she had been 
stanch?” 

“Hermione!” said Gretta, lingering on the syllables 
with changed accents. “ Is that her name?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ She is beautiful?” 

“ Yes.” He surveyed her as he spoke. “ Hot like you. 

I think that you are more beautiful, but one admires you 
and her, of course, from different points of view.” 

“ How different?” 

7 


194 


THE HEAD STATION. 


She represents one type, yon another. She belongs to 
the old world, yon to the new."*^ 

“ I understand. Miss Baldock represents civilization, I 
barbarism. 

He made a gestnre which indicated that the qnestion did 
not admit of discnssion. 

“ Miss Baldock has a great advantage over me,^^ contin- 
ned Gretta. 

‘‘ I don^t think so. Yon know it is said that one can 
not serve God and Mammon. Excnse my blnnt speaking. 
The comparison between yon natnrally snggests itself. 

“ I donT see why, natnrally.^'’ 

“ DonT yon? It seems to me that a man instinctively 
contrasts the woman he has loved with the woman he loves. 
There! It is ont. My fate is in yonr hands. What will 
yon say to me?^^ 

Gretta nttered a strange little ejaculation, half sorrow- 
ful, half interrogative. Her face paled, and her eyes, dilat- 
ing, gazed seriously into his. She seemed about to speak, 
then her lips drew tightly together again; she stood silent, 
with eyes averted. 

‘‘ Well?'’^ he asked. You know that I love you.-^^ 

Gretta turned toward him; but she looked past his face. 
It was evident that a conflict of feeling was going on within 
her. Unconsciously her nostrils quivered, and her little 
head reared itself in native pride. But the expression of 
her eyes and lips was intensely pathetic. The fancy struck 
him that she resembled some beautiful savage creature in 
whom the instinct of freedom rebelled against her keeper '’s 
caresses, which were, nevertheless, sweet to her. 

“I donT know,^^ she said unwillingly — ^and then with 
repressed vehemence — 

“ I^m not first with you. And IVe always been first. 

“ Oh!'*'’ he exclaimed. ‘‘ You are above such petty scru- 
ples. If you care for me, youTl put your hand honestly in 
mine, and wee’ll draw the curtain on the past. 

He extended his arm, but she kept hers back. 

“Ho!” she said with a touch of resentment. “ Lightly 
won, hghtly loved! Ho you think I donT know that? You 
are quite mistaken about me. You look upon me as an 
ignorant Australian girl — a sort of child of Nature.^'’ 

“ Heaven forbid !^^ he interposed emphatically. “ I don^t 
consider you in the least an unsophisticated person. ” 


THE HEAD STATION. 


195 


Gretta laughed mirthlessly. 

“ At any rate, I ought to know something about the 
ways of men when they are in love, since there is hardly a 
marriageable one on the Eura, or the Doonbah, who hasn^t 
sworn that I am, or was, the sole object of his affections. 

“ I can quite believe it,^^ returned Wyatt, grimly. “ I 
hope that in other respects you won^t put me in the same 
category as your Australian admirers. 

‘ ‘ I have been given to understand that human nature 
doesn^t vary much with climate,^ ^ rejoined Gretta, in the 
mocking tone which concealed a more tragic meaning. ‘‘ I 
think some of them did care for me,^^ she went on; and I 
have observed that those who seemed most cut up took 
soonest to flirting with some one else. Ordinary men always 
do that. It^s only one out of the common who can go on 
being fond of a girl and kind to her when she gives him 
nothing but pain. ” 

‘‘ Such a man as James Ferguson, for instance, said 
Bertram, calmly. 

“ Yes,^^ said Gretta, frankly. ‘‘ I was thinking of him. 

“ I am sorry that I come so far below your standard,^^ 
said Bertram, slowly and rather sadly; ‘‘ but I don^t think 
that you really mean all that you have said, or that you look 
upon me as so utterly weak and wanting in backbone. 

His accent touched Gretta to the quick. 

“ You are not weak. You are strong— horribly strong 
— but in a different way. It^s your cold-bloodedness— I 
hate it so — which gives you a sort of power. I don^’t want 
to yield to it. Now, do you understand 

^‘Yes,^^ he answered, ‘‘I think I do. I am quite con- 
tented to wait till you have made up your mind that I am 
thoroughly in earnest. You pay a poor compliment to your- 
self in imagining that I am not. 

“ It was only a year ago that you cared so much for Miss 
Baldock,^^ said Gretta. “ You will meet her in Leichardt's 
Town. Are you not afraid?" 

“No.^^ 

“ Then I am.^" 

“ Of what?^^ he asked. 

“ Of trusting you too much. I was watching your face 
the other day while you read the account of the governor's 
reception, 

Wall, what did you glean from my face?^^ 


196 THE HEAD STATION. 

“You were thinking of her — wondering hoW she had. 
looked and what she had said, and how she would have 
looked if you had been present/^ 

“ I confess that I was thinking of her/"’ he said; “ that 
was natural enough, and I felt a little bitter. But then, 
immediately afterward, I thought of you, and was happy. 
At that moment the sound of a gun, discharged at a little 
distance, startled them. Simultaneously there was a cooee 
from the advance party, which had been exploring the ra- 
vine and now seemed to be eating sandwiches and holding 
a council of war. 


CHAPTER XXXL 

PASSIOK^S WAR. 


“ Come now. Miss Gretta,^^ said Clephane, chaffingly, 
“ flirtations are all very well down by Doondi lagoon when 
there ^s plenty of time to spare, but they wonT do here. 
And, as it^s a question of being bushed on our ride home, 
I ^m bound to interfere. Hullo, whaPs that?^^ as another 
more muffled shot echoed down the glen. 

“ Pat after his scrub -turkey,^'’ suggested Sib. 

“ So I thought a minute ago, but it comes from the op- 
posite side if I am not mistaken. By Jove! Suppose we 
have struck upon Captain Rainbow^s retreat — and not a 
carbine amongst us!^^ • 

“Or anything to make us worth bailing up, except Miss 
Gauntlet k’s rings and Mr. Blaize^’s scarf-pin, said Wyatt, 
surveying the group as he poured some sherry into a pan- 
nikin. “ I donT think we need be alarmed.'’^ 

“ That shot probably came from near the camp,^^ put in 
Eerguson. “ Sound travels quickly down these gorges. 

Clephane consulted his watch. “ We had better wire 
into the grub, and then set off. We have two good hours 
to play about in. Are you still hot on the water-hole, 
Gretta?"^ 

. Gretta protested that she would And it or die. They eat 
the sandwiches, and wandered on down the ravine bed, dis- 
cussing the plan of operations.. 

It was commonly reported that the scrub (m the further 
side was full of mystery and wonder^. Rumor told of a 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


197 


grove of Oriental palms, of the water-hole with the inevita- 
ble Bunyip, of a cave filled with human bones, to say noth- 
ing of rare plants and chucky-chuckies and geebongs in 
abundance. 

Each marvel had a special attraction for somebody. 
Hester wanted to see the palms, and to find a rare fern 
which they had not in the rockery at Doondi. 

Captain Clephane was all curiosity about the bones, and 
Sib expressed an invincible determination to discover the 
hiding-place of certain scrubbers which defied him when he 
was on horseback. So when they reached a broken place 
in the precipice, and had successfully clambered to the 
wooded country above, it was agreed that, with compasses, 
there could be no danger of being lost, and that each pair 
or party should explore according to discretion, provided 
always that proper precautions were taken in blazing a 
track, and that the trysting-place was gained within two 
hours. 

They were all merry: and yet under the ripple of gayety 
what a swell of passion was heaving! 

Gretta seemed to have regained her lost vivacity and flung 
about jests and smart speeches. Isabel notwithstanding the 
aching at her heart was childishly exhilarated, her temper- 
ament susceptible to the influence of nature, acted upon by 
the novelty of the scene, the rich luxuriance of the vegeta- 
tion, the moist, woody smell of the earth, and the brilliant 
hues and heavy odor of tropical flowers. Hester, waking up 
every now and then as from a dream, to join in with fitful 
speech or nervous laugh, was in reality only conscious of a 
heart-hunger which frightened her by its keenness. For 
four or five days she had seen but little of Durnford. The 
presence of guests at Doondi and the Christmas amusements 
had rendered dual solitude difficult. And then the very 
dread of espionage galled her pride and wounded her self- 
respect. To act a part before her sister and her father — to 
force her features into quietude, to speak to Durnford of or- 
dinary subjects, when her heart was beating almost to burst- 
ing with longing for some intimate assurance of his rever- 
ence and devotion — was agony and degradation sometimes 
greater than she could bear. All his scorn of conventional 
forms, all his strength and tenderness, were needed to soften 
the smart of her equivocal position. When these failed her 
ghe felt helpless and nerveless, while her imagination rioted 


198 


THE HEAD STATION. 


in humiliating suggestions, and she convinced herself that 
she was a burden to him, and that he must despise her. 

She fancied now that a change had come over him during 
the last day or two, not to be accounted for by the fits of 
reaction to which he was occasionally a prey. He was cold- 
er, more constrained, his manner was less watchful and 
tender. When he looked at her, he averted his eyes quick- 
ly; when he spoke to her, it appeared that some painful con- 
sciousness checked his utterance. There had been no op- 
portunity for explanation. Even during the ride to Little 
Oomongin they had never been absolutely alone; and now 
when he took his place by her side, and they walked on in 
dreamy silence, she felt dizzy from the tumult within her 
and the strain of concealing it. 

The scrub was more open here than scrubs usually are. 
They kept together for a httle way, wandering aimlessly 
through a labyrinth of ghostly white bottle-trees, over moss- 
grown stones and fallen logs, till, as they penetrated fur- 
ther, the foliage interlaced more closely overhead, and the 
gloom intensified, the silence and solitude becoming more 
oppressive, so that it seemed impossible that foot of man 
could ever before have trodden in this primeval forest. 

Gradually now they divided. The laughter became more 
subdued, the voices widened apart, and, at last, were only 
echoes, these too ceasing. Some eager ones pressed for- 
ward, others idly lingered, attracted this way and that by 
a rare creeper, a cluster of luscious berries, a mighty stag- 
horn-fern that must be chopped down and in some fashion 
conveyed to JDoondi, or a grassy vista stretching along like 
a vast cathedral aisle where strange shadows seemed to 
beckon till all had vanished. At last, Hester and Durn- 
ford found themselves alone. 

Unawares, they had entered a little dell surrounded by 
precipitous rocks, and strewn with lichen-covered stones. 
It was not more than a few yards across, and had evidently 
once been used as a camping-ground by the blacks, for the 
granite wall was black with smoke, and here and there 
might be seen half-calcined bones of different animals. A 
huge Moreton Bay fig-tree flourished in the richer soil ac- 
cumulated by the washing-down of debris and decaying 
vegetation from the higher ground, which appeared inac- 
cessible save by a break-neck climb up the face of the preci- 
pice. On the slope above, the undergrowth was rank. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


199 


save where the bare rock lay exposed, showing fissures and 
gloomy recesses which might have served as lairs to many 
a wild beast, were there such in Australia. 

Loneliness more intense could not be imagined. Hester 
raised her voice in a feeble cooee, but only its echo came 
back to her. A curious tremor seized her, and she felt al- 
most afraid as she looked round the forbidding refuge and 
up at the wilderness which closed them in. No sound was 
to be heard except the distant roar of the cataract. The at- 
mosphere was close and still. Even the leaves made no 
murmur, for not a breath of breeze reached them here. 

“ What a strange place she said, trying to speak nat- 
urally. “ Where are we? 

“ DonT you hear the water-fall? The ravine lies down 
to our right; and over there is Oomougin. The world is 
outside of us. We can get no further. 

“ Let us stay here for a little while, she said; ‘‘lam 
tired. 

He took her hand in his, and, holding her a short dis- 
tance from him, looked at her earnestly. 

“ What is it?^^ she said. “ I have not vexed you, have 
I?" 

“ Why do you ask that?^^ 

“ I donT know. We have been so little together lately, 
and the last time we met you were cold and reserved. 

“ I must be reserved. If I gave myself rein you would 
shrink from me. Come, we will sit here and rest.^^ 

He drew her to a ledge of rock abutting from the preci- 
pice, and, when she was seated, placed himself on the 
ground at her feet. 

“ We can get no further,” he added, again. “ We have 
been going blindly on, without steering our course, and now 
we have come to a dead blank wall.^"’ 

She bent toward him with a questioning ejaculation, for 
his tone seemed to indicate a deeper meaning than his words 
conveyed. But his eyes were turned from her. She sighed, 
but said nothing. He threw himself back. 

“ As I lie here,^^ he said, presently, “ I look straight up 
to the sky. There is nothing between us and the beautiful 
endless blue. No prying eyes, no hollow shams, no veils 
nor pretenses. We dare not let the world see our hearts, 
but we dare show them to God. ” 


200 


THE HEAD STATION. 


“ Is that true?’^ she cried. “ I try to feel so, but I can 
not. When I am with you our love seems beautiful and 
natural; but when we are apart I know that it is wicked, 
and that it would have been better if we had never met.^'’ 
He raised himself on his arm, and looked up at her. 

“Will you take off your hat?'^ he said. “ I like to see 
your face. 

She obeyed. 

“ Oh!'’'’ he exclaimed. “You look ill; you look sad; 
you look unsatisfied. 

“lam not ill,^^ she answered, “but I am sad and un- 
satisfied.^^ 

He gave a groan. 

“ It has all been a mistake then?^^ 

“ I thought it would be different,^' she said, dreamily. 
“ I thought that to know you loved me, to have your sym- 
pathy and companionship, would be all that I should need. 

“ Is it not enough?^’ he asked, with feverish eagerness 
which seemed to beg for a negative. 

“ It ought to be enough,^'’ she exclaimed. “ What should 
I want more? But why this doubt and unrest? Why 
should I torment myself with the fancy that my happiness 
can not last — that you will weary of me — and that 1 must 
snatch at whatever joys the hour gives me? This is not the 
perfect peace I dreamed of at first. 

“There can be no true peace, no. true joy for us, till 
the conditions of our hfe are altered,^ ^ he answered, with 
forced calmness — “ till we belong wholly to each other. '’^ 

She was silent for several moments, he watching her face 
closely. Then — 

“ That can never be,^^ she said, very low. 

He started to a sitting-posture. 

“You say that it can never be. Why? Because you are 
married. Well, your husband is free to claim you. If he 
were to do so to-morrow would you go back to hini?^^ 

She shuddered. 

“No.’^ 

“ 'Yet you hold yourself bound, he went on, pitilessly. 
“ What binds you?^'’ 

“ God^s law,^' she said, falteringly. 

“ I deny that. The law is of man^s making, not God^s. 
God made love; man made marriage. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


201 


He waited for a minute^ she did not speak. 

“ Hester/^ he said, more gently, have you missed me 
the last few days?^^ 

“ Oh!’^ she cried, “ I have longed for you.^’ 

He took her hand and softly kissed it. 

“ I knew it. Every night — all night I have thought of 
you. You don^t know — It is so ghastly,^ ^ he cried, to 
wake up and to feel that you love me; and to know, with 
a poet^s passionate instinct, that you belong to me, and yet 
not be able to stir hand or foot to make you my own.'’^ 

“ It was not like this at first,^^ she said, pitifully; you 
did not want me so much then.^^ 

IVe always wanted you/^ he exclaimed. ‘‘ Even be- 
fore we had met my heart hungered for you as the soul 
yearns for its mate — But at first it was all strange to you. 
You were afraid. You didn^’t like me to talk to you of love. 
You wanted to call it friendship.'’^ 

It is friendship,’’ she said. 

And more — a thousand — a million times more. What 
is the secret of your unrest? Isn’t it that something within 
you is perpetually struggling to free itself that it may fly to 
me?” He rose and walked agitatedly up and down the 
glen. She sat silent and despairingly calm. When he 
returned to her he too was calm, but very pale. ‘‘ Hester,” 
he said quietly, ‘‘ I have got something to read to you. 
Will you listen?” 

She welcomed his changed manner. 

‘‘ Oh, gladly. It’s something beautiful that you have 
written?” 

‘‘ I don’t know whether it’s beautiful or not. It came 
from my soul; and if intensity of feeling means truth it’s 
true.” 

Hester leaned back with drooped eyelids and waited. The 
poet’s melodious tones thrilled as he read. 

“ O love of loves! this once, if never more, 

Let the strong, fiery soul within me speak, 

Maddened by that strange, sweet curve of thy cheek, 

- Wild with old dreams that haunted us of yore. 

Where murmuring ripples kiss the fern-fringed shore 
And pulse along the mountain-shadowed creek. 

Here Nature’s giant soul condemns the weak, 

And seems itself to exult in passion’s war. 


202 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


‘ I love thee, love thee, love thee past recall; 

And hath not love like mine the fight to break 
The whole world’s laws in sunder for thy sake? 

The right to claim thee, own thee before all? 

There is no truth in heaven, no truth in song. 

No truth in God, if this sweet thing be wrong. 

“ Because I love thee so, I stand alone 

Before thee; and in Love’s high name I say 
That love like ours creates from day to day. 

As God creates the laws its heart doth own. 

All deeds are crimes save one deed, to dethrone 
The craven doubt that turns love’s gold hair gray, 

And palsies passion with infirm delay, 

And changes music’s soul into a moan. 

“ Am I not strong for thee? As strong as God: 

Yea, stronger for the moment, in that He 
Just for one hour gives up His might to me, 

And as with lightning finger points our road. 

If 1 am strength eternal and divine. 

Be thou God’s sweetness when thy lips touch mine.”* 

As she listened to the passionate words it seemed to Hes- 
ter that something fiery and strange came close to her and 
wrapped her round, drawing her very life so that she could 
not breathe nor stir. She became cold, and the blood 
forsook her limbs, and, in the silence that followed, she 
could hear her heart throbbing. Presently she knew that 
he had come nearer to her and was at her feet. She filing 
her hands over her face and bowed herself forward. She 
was sobbing. He seated himself on the rock by her side, 
and, drawing down her hands, soothed her gently and ten- 
derly as though she had been a child. 


CHAPTER. XXXII. 

TEMPTATION. 

Aftek a minute or two Hester grew calmer, and her 
eyes met his, the tears quivering upon her lashes. 

Hester!'’" he cried, ‘‘ we see now that life is worth noth- 
ing to either of us without the other. What"s the use of 
compromise and self-deceptions?"" 

* The author is indebted for the sonnets to Mr. George Barlow. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


203 


There need be no self-deception/^ said Hester, with a 
faint tremble in her voice. “ I love you with my whole 
hept and soul. Hm not ashamed or afraid to own it. If 
— if we could be married, I think that I should die of hap- 
piness. But it^s too strong for us. I see now that we were 
mistaken in ever thinking it could last. The wrong is that 
we canT be content with a little — we want too much. 

“Not more than we have a right to take,'’^ he said. 

“We have no right, she answered. “ If we could make 
one so easily where would be the need to strive against 
temptations? There would be no good or evil — no sacred- 
ness in marriage, no obligations — 

“ What obligations have you?^^ he asked. 

She was silent. 

“ None,^^ he said. “ You are alone. If your child had 
lived a third would have had to be taken into account. But 
now, our actions only affect seriously our two selves. 

“ You forget my father,^ ^ said Hester. “ From the be- 
ginning I have been a pain and a disappointment to him. I 
couldmt be a shame too. And there are my sisters — 

“ Ohr^ he exclaimed. “These obligations are straws. 
You know it. 

“ There is my belief in and clinging to what is right. 
Tha/s what I must be bound by. It^s the strongest mo- 
tive IVe got. It has been like an anchor to me all these 
years. IVe had temptations,^^ she went on, tremulously 
— “ though never like this one. IVe longed to break away 
from miserable associations — from the sense of bondage. 
I’ve wanted to be a governess, an actress, a servant — any- 
thing to get away — ” 

“ But,” he said, “ there was nothing strong enough to 
drag you. And now that has come. ” 

“ No,” she replied. “ The feeling of duty always held 
me back, and it will go on holding me. I know that it 
would be wicked to give up everything for you — I know 
that I should be punished; and that you would be punished 
through me. I know there would never be any peace for 
us. ... I couldn’t do it. . . . I’d rather suffer. ... I’d 
part from you rather than that.” 

Again sobs shook her frame. He did not try to soothe 
her, but got up; and, standing against a projecting rock a 
few feet &om where she sat, looked down upon her. 


204 


THE HEAD STATION. 


‘‘ We had better part/^ she said, the sentence ending 
quaveringly. 

“ Do you mean forever he asked, sternly. 

She hesitated. “ Tor a long time — till you get to feel 
differently.^^ 

‘‘ I shall never feel differently. 

“ Oh, why canH it be as we hoped at first she said , 
piteously. “ I thought that we should be quite happy if 
we saw each other alone sometimes; and that after awhile 
everything would become more natural — 

“ Instead of which, he said, impetuously, it becomes 
every day more unnatural — more impossible. It is natural 
that we should belong to each other, and this cramped in- 
tercourse is only torture to both of us.^^ 

“ Oh, don’t say that!” she exclaimed, piteously. “We 
have been very happy sometimes. It was better than noth- 
ing.” 

Her appeal touched him deeply. The expression of his 
eyes softened to one of the utmost tenderness. “We have 
been very happy,” he repeated. “ But I break my heart 
every day in thinking how much happier we might be. ” 

There was for a minute the sweet silence which is full of 
memories. “The roses were gathered too full-blown,” 
said Hester, dreamily; “ and the thorns have pierced us.” 

“ Yes,” he answered; “ but they have been sweet.” 

“ I used to wonder why there was so much miseiy be- 
tween people who loved each other, in books and plays,” 
she went on — “ why there must always be the terrible 
struggle and wrench or else the getting wicked — why they 
couldn’t be placidly happy. I suppose it’s human nature; 
and that’s what makes it so hard.” 

“It’s human nature that we should wish to obey our 
best instincts. Hester, where is the use of fighting against 
a law of our being? You spoke of the sacredness of mar- 
riage, but have you realized what true marriage is? You 
don’t see it as I see it — with a man’s — a poet’s — ^further- 
reaching vision. Your woman’s training, your whole tone 
of thought, make it difficult, almost impossible, for you to 
rise above the conventional view of things.” 

“How?” she asked. 

“ Don’t you see that the essence of marriage is the one 
thing which makes any union right or holy? Marriage — tlie 
form, the body — is nothing. It is of no value; it is merely 


THE HEAD STATION. 


205 


negative. Love^ pure unselfish love, is the only positive 
vital reality. That gives man the larger spiritual right 
which transcends law, and claims the woman '’s soul forever 
in the sight of God and man.'’^ 

Hester was silent, racked by inward conflict. Her nature 
combined a" curious stubbornness and almost Calvinistic 
rigidity with great impulsiveness and intense susceptibility, 
so that, while her heart vibrated in passionate harmony 
with his pleading, her will and all her religious sentiments 
rebelled against it. 

No,"*^ she at last said, firmly, drawing her shoulders 
together and taking a deep breath, as if gathering in reso- 
lution. I canT feel it. It’s no use. It seems that your 
reasoning is false. . . . Life is hard, and oh, so perplex- 
ing," she continued, brokenly. “ There^s no safety except 
■ in keeping to the road one has always walked in. If I 
turned aside I should not know how to guide myself. Per- 
haps what you say is true. My training ties me down to 
what I have been taught out of the Bible, and the rules 
which helped my mother before me. . . . What would 
she think of me — or even poor old Aunt Judith, or any 
good, simple-minded woman? What should I feel if it were 
my own child who had to make the choice? That’s what 
brings it home to me. Wouldn't I try to keep her from 
choosnig evil as I would try to keep her from killing herself? 
Oh, I couldn't see her do it. I'd rather she suffered — as 
I'm suffering. And if she knows — if my mother knew — 
and they were watching me now!" 

Hester's tears dropped thickly. To him they seemed the 
outcome of a morbid sentimentalism, and he chafed at the 
thought that a dead child could be made the arbiter of their 
future. But if he did not sympathize with the phase he 
treated it with tenderness. 

“• Darling," he said, ‘‘ your feeling is womanly and 
beautiful; but it is not reasonable. Do you think that the 
dead who loved us— if, as I do not believe, they have any 
knowledge of our lives — could wish that we should live 
them out in loneliness and sorrow for the mere sake of 
being faithful to conventional traditions of right? Self- 
sacrifice is noble when there is an end to be served, a defi- 
nite advantage to be gained for the living; but when there 
is no good to be won, when it is only a dooming of one's 
self and another to wretchedness— can you defend it?'^ 


206 


THE HEAD STATION. 


I don^t know. If no virtue were good for its own sake, 
I don^t know how we should steer ourselves; and it would 
be better to die, for we should be alwa 3 ^s making mistakes. 

‘‘ Oh!'^ he exclaimed, “ your view is a narrow one. 

“ Perhaps; but I know that when I have disobeyed the 
simple rules of right and wrong, trouble has come of it. I 
was wrong to let you remain — after that day. It was all 
wrong — ^the secret meetings, and the longings for each 
other, and the rest. This is like the story of my marriage 
over again, only in a different way. I deceived them. I did 
things in secret, and trouble followed.^-’ 

“Hester!-’^ he exclaimed, in a proud voice, “how can 
you compare the two cases? You were a child, utterly ig- 
norant of the world, incapable of discerning the character 
of the man with whom you romantically fancied yourself in 
love. You didnT know what love, what marriage meant. 
You made a mistake, and the forfeit you have paid has 
been out of all proportion with the error. It is monstrous 
injustice that you should be chained by it. Now you are a 
woman to whom sorrow has been experience. You have a 
right to act upon your own responsibility — a right to do 
what you please with your future. You love me. You 
ought to be mine. We have proved our love, and you run 
no risk. You trust me?^^ 

He fixed his eyes upon her in passionate questioning. 

“ Yes,^^ she answered, with tightened breath. 

“ Do you trust me well enough to let me decide what is 
best for you?^^ 

Hester quailed beneath his gaze; but she only shook her 
head. 

“ I know that I could make you happy, and in the 
purest, noblest way. What does anything else matter? We 
are but units in the world. If you dread shame — great 
heavens, that^s no word for us! If you Ye afraid of the 
scorn of idiots, we will leave Australia. Who do you sup- 
pose in England or Italy would care what our past had 

She looked up at him in a bewildered way. 

“ Ah, you donY understand 1^^ he exclaimed. “You 
donY know what has happened to me. Last Sunday Y 
mail brought me letters which have changed my prospects. 

“ Changed your prospects!"^ she echoed, blankly. “ And 
you did not tell me?^" 




THE HEAD STATIOH. 


207 


“ I couldnH till I had thought the matter out; I was de- 
termined that I would wrestle with feelings unworthy of 
you — if there were any such — that I wouldn’t let the selfish 
yearning toward you get the better of unselfish considera- 
tion for your real welfare. I knew that the time had come 
for a decision. I knew that henceforth it must be all or 
nothing — union or separation. 

Hester grew very pale, and a frightened look came over 
her face. “ What has happened?” she asked. 

“I’ll tell you. I am not now an absolutely poor man. 
I have had five thousand pounds left me by my uncle at 
Toowoonan with whom I had quarreled. You know all 
about that. He died a fortnight ago. It isn’t a great 
deal, but it’s what I never expected; and it gives me inde- 
pendence. Then there’s something else, strange to say, 
that very same mail — the other letter I received was from 
the publisher in Melbourne who brought out my poems, 
and who offers me a post on the staff of ‘ The Antipodean. ’ ” 

“You have accepted it?” 

“ I have written accepting it. The letter lies unposted at 
Doondi. You will tell me whether it is to go down with 
Stone to-morrow or not. ” 

The pallor of Hester’s face intensified. She made two or 
three futile efforts to speak. At last she said: 

“ Of course you will send the letter. It would be mad- 
ness to refuse the appointment. ” 

There was silence for a minute. A little wind had 
arisen, and the leaves of the fig-trees rustled. 

“ Hester,” he said, “ the decision is momentous.” 

“ I know it,” she answered. “ It means that we must 
part.” 

“ No,” he said passionately; “it means that we will go 
together. ” 

Hester rose from her seat. She moved forv^rard a few 
paces dizzily, then stood still for a second with closed eyes. 
It seemed to her that the rocks were closing in round her, 
and that light and air were going from her. 

Suddenly she lifted her arms with a despairing gesture, 
and cried, “ I can not!” 

“Good God!” he. exclaimed. “How can I convince 
you?” He walked away from her, and she sunk back again 
on the ledge of rock, her eyes wide and solemn following 
him and meeting his as he turned. 


208 


THE HEAD STATION. 


‘‘ DonH make it too hard for me/^ she said. ' ' 

He was at her side in an instant. “ I make it fiard for 
you? — I — I? Idl leave you forever if you cah tell me hon- 
estly that youM he the happier for never seeing my face 
again. But that couldn^’t be. It would be unnatural; it 
would be wicked. Hester, you are mine. I have the right 
to claim you."’’’ 

He came close to her, and put his arm round her, and 
pressed her to him — lip to lip. They had kissed often be- 
fore, but never like this. It was .as though the pent-up 
souls of both had rushed together, and could be divided 
never more. It was like eternity staked upon a single die. 
They drew 'apart, and eyes glowed upon eyes. And 
then again they kissed. At last she tore herself from liim. 
“ George, have pity on me. Leave me. Let me think. 

Still he urged her. He called her his own, his life. He 
besought her not to separate herself from him. 

‘‘Oh!^^ she cried, in agony, ‘‘have pity on me. Give 
me time. Oh, go — go — my heart is breaking. Let me be 
alone. 

Remorse seized him. “ Hester, my love, my darling! 
It shall be as you wish — in your own time. I have been 
cruel to you. 

“ Leave me,^'’ she repeated. “ I want to be alone. Go 
a little way. I will follow you. 

He turned slowly. “ I will wait for you,^^ he said. 
“ Come to me when you are ready. 


CHAPTER *XXXm. 

CAPTAIH EAIi^BOW. 

Durkford left the dell. He, too, felt bruised and 
tired, as might one who had been vanquished in a hard 
fight. So great had been the strain upon his emotions that 
he comprehended, and in a degree shared, Hester^’s longing 
for a few minutes of respite and solitude. 

The gloom and silence of the scrub fell gratefully upon 
his excited nerves, yet as he emerged from the hollow, which 
now as he looked back upon it, seemed swallowed up by the 
rising hills, there was the painful sense of having left her 
alone to battle with her doubts; and the cruel suggestion 


THE HEAD STATION. ;30y 

rose that the very place, so like a tomb, in which she had 
remained, might be typical of the lot she would choose. 

Though he had foreseen a crisis and a conflict, he had 
not imagined that Hester would prove so unmalleable. His 
experience of her character had hardly prepared him for 
the tenacity she showed. As advocates in his favor he had 
relied upon his influence over her, upon the passionate in- 
stincts of which he had watched the awakening, upon her 
indifference to mundane considerations, and upon a certain 
peculiarity in her mental constitution, which disposed her 
to look upon life from the standpoint of the abstract rather 
than the concrete. But the most impulsive, the most yield- 
ing, the most unworldly of women may, he how reflected, 
display a mule-like obstinacy in regard to morals and re- 
ligion; and, he thought with bitterness, are incapable of 
that wider purview, logical interpretation, and intellectual 
grasp of social problems upon which the thinking man 
prides himself. 

He waited for some minutes at the outlet from the glen, 
half hoping for the sound of a sob or cry which might be a 
signal for his re-entry. But none came. He had hardly 
observed before, but noticed now, that the rocks which 
almost entirely walled in the hollow were riddled with fis- 
sures, and here and there showed openings that might, he 
fancied, indicate the existence of caverns or subterranean 
passages, leading perhaps into the depths of the ravine. 

It was quite comprehensible that some natural phenomena 
were accountable for the blacks^ distaste to the spot, and 
suddenly his imagination conceived a wild legend, which 
seemed to take dramatic coloring from the scene he had 
just gone through; and later, after having laid for years 
germinating, became the nucleus of his finest work. 

He could still hear the water-fall booming, and knew that 
he was not far from the original starting-point. Guiding 
himself by the trees he had blazed, he walked on for several 
hundred yards, then cast himself down, and gave his mind 
up a prey to the passion of anxiety and longing which had 
taken possession of him. 

Meanwhile Hester sat motionless upon the rock where he 
had left her, her eyes fixed on vacancy, and her lips drawn 
tightly together. She made no moan, uttered no sound. 
The two courses before her seemed to present themselves 
pictorially to her vivid fancy. On the one side she saw her- 


210 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


self floating on a stream of joy, lapped in Durnford^s love; 
all that she had thirsted for — the excitement of drama, the 
thrill of keen sensation, the unpalling delight of sympa- 
thetic companionship — ^hers in full measure. On the other, 
the automaton-like existence, the chafing against an uncon- 
genial routine, loneliness, barren honor, and aching void. 

She shuddered at the far-stretching vista of dreariness, 
to which there could be no end but death. Why was she so 
bound? Why was Duty so imperious? Why was Fate so 
cruel? Then suddenly she paled, her eyes dilated. Lurid 
and sinister flashed the thought that her husband might 
die. Hester^s bosom heaved; and then she shrunk guiltily, 
as though the suggestion had been a whisper from the Evil 
One. She covered her face, remembering with horror an 
uncanny dream which she had had the night before, the im- 
pression of which had been driven away by succeeding agi- 
tation — a nightmare inspired probably by the hardness pf 
her grass-tree cpuch, the proximity of the man she loved, 
and the strangeness and unconventionality of the situation. 

She had dreamed, after the fashion of imaginative per- 
sons, a story in which she had seemed at once the narrator 
and the actor. At first it was misty and vague — a mediae- 
val romance, in which blended a sketch she had been read- 
ing in a magazine, of Bianca Oapello — Italian figures, and 
melodrama after Boccaccio, against a background of Aus- 
tralian bush and grim Comongin. There were in the story 
a wife, a husband, a lover; passion withheld from its con- 
summation; high-minded scruples on the part of the lover; 
a scheme of murder secretly planned and secretly executed 
by the wife; freedom from hateful bonds; marriage with 
the favored one; only a crime buried in the breast of a 
guilty woman, to poison the bliss of honorable union. ■ 

Then it had seemed to Hester in all the weird fantasy of 
a dream that she was that giulty woman, cold and hot by 
turns, tortured with dread lest a shadow of suspicion should 
cross the mind of him she worshiped, drowning remorse and 
lulling conscience by steeping herself in the raptures of 
lovp. 

It was their marriage night. She lay by his side. Their 
breath mingled; he sleeping, she wide-eyed, held by the 
spell of deadly fear; cold and clammy with the horror of a 
grewsome thing that interposed itself between him and her 
•r— her murdered husband '’s face, close to her own, her mur- 


THE HEAD STATTOH. 


211 


dered husband eyes gloating upon her agony; her mur- 
dered husband’s arms infolding her in a loathsome em- 
brace. 

The shriek wrung from her by the extremity of her ter- 
ror had awakened her. She must have uttered some sound 
aloud, for Mollie, moving drowsily, had mumbled, “ What’s 
the matter? Is it centipedes?” And Hester had answered. 

No, only a dream. ” 

The nightmare had haunted her for a little while, and 
then had been banished by Durnford’s presence, and by the 
fresh air and sunshine. Now, morbid, exaggerated, and 
fantastic as she knew it to be, it thrilled her with mysterious 
awe, and like a warning ghost seemed to foreshadow terri- 
ble possibilities. She uncovered her face; but the daylight 
hurt her. Thoughts whirled. She felt sick and dizzy. 
‘‘ I — can’t think,” she said, in a loud whisper. “ I can’t 
decide yet. I must go — and find the others.” 

She staggered to her feet, and stood pressing her hand 
tightly upon her breast, as if she were in great pain. She 
looked round the dell in a scared way, and with the same 
strange voice said, “It’s very hard. Everything is hard 
for poor women. Why doesn’t God make it easier?” 

She took her hat, and almost mechanically gathered up 
some fiowers from the ledge where she had laid them. As 
she moved forward an object caught her eyes. She stopped 
and gazed in bewilderment. Three yards from her a man 
stood close to that projecting rock, against which Durnford 
had leaned. He was a stranger, rough, unkempt, desper- 
ate-looking, dressed in dirty moleskins, and wearing high 
riding-boots, with his Crimean shirt open at the throat, 
and a pair of revolvers and a bowie-knife slung at his belt 
— a powerful man with something commanding and dare- 
devil in his look, fine black eyes, and a coarse, well-feat- 
ured face, the lower part of which was covered with a 
stubbly growth of hair. 

He advanced, throwing back his head, and half lifting 
his arm with a gesture too horribly familiar to Hester. 

“ Ah!” 

Her cry was voiceless. Her tongue clove to the roof of 
her mouth. For the moment she seemed petrified, ^ot 
till his hand touched her did she recoil. Then she darted 
from him, and sunk trembling against the wall of rock 


212 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


while she looked up at him with piteouS;, terror-stricken 
eyes. 

He came nearer to her. 

‘‘‘ Don^’t — don^t touch me/^ she said. 

“What are you frightened ofr^’’ he asked. His tone 
awoke memories. It was the same deep, not unmusical, 
voice, with its reckless ring, which for romantic Hester 
Reay had been one of Lance Murgatroyd's chief attractions. 

“ I don^’t mean to hurt you, Hetty. If that had been 

what I wanted I could have shot both you and that d d 

blackguard, who was making love to you, as easily as I 
could shoot that bird now.’’^ 

He pointed to a Willy wagtail, which was hopping cheer- 
fully from stone to stone. 

She shuddered, but was still too much under the influ- 
ence of the shock either for speech or clear comprehension 
of the position. 

“ You don^’t ask me how I got here,’^ he said. 

“ I — I don^t know,'’^ she answered, bewilderedly. 

“You look dazed. Well, I don^’t wonder at it. I must 
seem rather like a ghost to you, Hester.-’^ 

“You do, indeed, 

“ By God!^^ he exclaimed, “ my blood was hot enough 
when I saw that scoundrel kissing you. I had my pistol 
cocked. 

“ You were there?^^ she gasped. “ You were listen- 
ing?’^ 

“ Ay. I heard every word. Who is he?” 

“ He is my brother’s tutor.” 

“ And now he has had money left him, and wants to cut 
that game, and take you with him?” 

She was silent, but the blood rose in her cheek. 

He looked at her for a minute and gave a queer little 
sound which might have indicated anything. 

“ Look here!” he said, “ I’ve got something to say to 
you. And I am going to show you something, and give 
you a chance of getting me hanged. ” 

“ What do you mean?” she asked, still in that subdued 
voice. 

“Come here. Get up.” And he put out his hand to 
lead’ her forward. But she crouched back. 

“ No, no,” she said. “ What do you want with me? I 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


213 


‘‘You are shy. Buh I^m your husband, you know? 
Seven years" quod doesn"t annul conjugal rights."" 

She rose. 

“ If you touch me, I"ll cry out. There is some one not 
far from here who will protect me. " " 

“Your lover! and he is unarmed/" said Murgatroyd, 
with sinister meaning. 

The poor woman paled again. He watched her, his fierce 
eyes softening. 

“ AVhy won"t you believe that I mean you no harm? I 
am sorry for you, Hetty. It"s the truth. I want to talk 
to you, and I am not safe here. I heard guns on the other 
side of the scrub, and how do I know who may be hanging 
about? There are a good lot of you^ aren"t there?"" 

“ About six or seven. "" 

“ What are they doing up here?"" 

“We came for a picnic."" 

Murgatroyd hurst into a strange laugh. 

“ I wonder what the hell some people want to come and 
spoon in a place like this for? They"d stop their billing 
and cooing pretty quick if they knew that they had dropped 
upon a bushranger"s nest. "" 

Hester uttered a little cry. 

“ Lance, you are not — you are not?"" 

“I"m Captain Eainbow,"" he said, grimly.. “You 
needn"t be afraid. They are not worth bailing up; and 
there are too many of them. "" 

Hester stood like one stunned. When he took her hand 
and drew her from her shelter she submitted quietly. His 
manner was not cruel, though it was imperious. On the 
other side of that projecting piece of rock was a recess, and 
an opening from it into a still inner chamber, as it seemed, 
which she had not before observed. The precipice here 
rose abruptly and to a greater height, and was scooped at 
the base, and partially overgrown with mulgam shrubs and 
rank spinnifex. 

Murgatroyd paused, and eyed his wife searchingly. 

“ I"m running a risk,"" he said. 

“ If you are Captain Rainbow,"" she answered, steadily, 
“ you are in danger. The police are after you. "" 

“ I know it, but I mean to keep quiet here, and I am 
not afraid of their running me to ground, unless you peach 
upon me. Swear to me that you won"t do that. "" 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


214 

With some indignation, Hester drew away her hand. 
The dazed feeling had passed off, and in its place had come 
an excitement which lent her strength, and was a relief 
after the numb sensation which the shock had produced in 
her. 

‘‘ What do you think of me?^^ she said. Did I ever do 
a mean or treacherous thing, willfully? I wouldnT betray 
you to save my own life. If you have anything to say to 
me, say it, and let me go."^^ 

Murgatroyd seemed moved. 

“ I believe you. Ho; in all your tantrums you never 
were mean. You were always one of the quixotic sort, 
ready to pitch away ev.erything for an idea, and when that 
turned rotten to fling it away too — just as you did with 
me. 

The bitterness and the repressed emotion in his tone 
stung Hester like a reproach which has been merited. 

Lance, she said, ‘‘ I gave my life to you. If youM 
been kind to me, and if I hadnT been afraid for baby — I^d 
have stuck to you.^^ 

“ I believe you,^^ he said again, and they were silent for 
a moment or two. “ Swear, he said, suddenly, ‘‘that 
you’ll not tell any one you’ve seen me here.” 

She hesitated, but answered, 

“ Very well; I’ll swear.” 

“ Hot — that man!” 

“Ho.” 

“ By your God.” 

“ By my God,” she repeated, in a stifled voice. 

He advanced upon her, and, before she was aware of his 
intention, had seized her round the waist and placed his 
other hand upon her mouth to stifle her involuntary scream. 
Repulsion and alarm gave her courage, and she struggled, 
but in vain His grasp was like a vise. He lifted her 
from her feet, and, with great rapidity, bore her through 
the mulgam bushes and spinnifex, and with some difficulty 
forced her into an aperture in the rock which looked like 
the hiding-place of a yura or mountain kangaroo. Bend- 
ing her almost double, at first, he half -pushed, half -dragged 
her along a passage leading into the heart of the hill, till 
suddenly, at the distance of about fifty feet from the open- 
ing, it widened, and they were in a cave, into which the 
light streamed from a hole above. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


215 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

HUSBAND AND WIFE. 

Murgatroyd released Hester. 

‘‘ Xow/^ lie said, “ if you screamed it could do no harm. 
I didn^t mean to be rough with you, but it was the only 
way of getting you here without a row. You^d have thought 
I was going to bury you alive. 

She gazed round. Her eyes, dazzled by the beam of sun- 
shine which fell like a pillar from the roof, failed, for a few 
moments, to pierce the surrounding gloom. Presently she 
saw that the cave was large and irregularly shaped, and at 
one end dipped downward. Here there was evidently a 
spring, for water oozed down the wall into a shallow basin 
filled to the brim. There was a bed of grass, half covered 
with a blue blanket, in one corner; and a tomahawk, some 
arms, and ammunition lay upon the ground. There were 
a few rude utensils, a pile of wood, and a heap of coals, 
probably gathered from the ravine bed, a skinned bandicoot 
hanging from the ceiling, and some scrub-turkey^’s eggs 
baking in the ashes that smoldered between two smoke- 
blackened stones. 

“What do you mean to do wdth me?^ ^ asked Hester, 
trembling in spite of the courage with which she sought to 
inspire herself. “ Are you going to keep me a. prisoner 
What then?^^ 

“ I warn you that we had arranged to meet again in three 
hours from the time we parted; and, if I am missing, the 
whole party will come in search of me.-’^ 

“ Do you think they'd be likely to find my hiding-place? 
And if they did I've plenty of gunpowder. I could keep 
an army at bay here for a long time." 

She let her hands, which she had raised, fall with a gest- 
ure of proud defiance. 

“ Hester," he said, in a changed voice, “ I'll not detain 
you against your will. I see you don't give me credit for 
a spark of good feeling toward you. You make a mis-; 
take." He took out his watch. “It's now two o'clock, 
How long will you give me r" 

“I will give you twenty minutes," she answered. 


216 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


‘‘,Very well. When it^s over 1^11 take you back to the 
entrance, and you may find your own way back and tell 
what tale you choose, so long as it isn-’t the true one. 

He moved, and rolled forward a log of wood which he 
covered with a blanket, and upon which he motioned her to 
sit. 

‘‘ I can^t do much for you, but Ifil make you as com- . 
fortable as I can. 

“ Thank you, Lance, she said, gently, seating herself. 

‘‘You look upon me as a brute. It is not to be expected 
of me that I should treat you as a gentleman would — or 
wouldnT. Perhaps, after all, you are safer with me than 
you would be with your poet-lover under the same circum- 
stances. 

Again Hester^s cheeks grew crimson. 

“ By God!'’^ he exclaimed, coarsely, the lower element in 
him gaining a mastery over his finer instincts, ‘‘you are 
handsome enough now to tempt any man. You are not 
so peeky and puling as you used to be. Hetty, I^m your 
husband. WonT you give me a kiss?^-’ 

The expression of ms eyes filled her with disgust. She 
darted away like a frightened bird which sees itself hope- 
lessly trapped, looking to this side and that, and, at last, 
making a desperate appeal to his mercy. 

“ Lance, she cried, “ I donT know what you mean to 
do with me. ITn in your power. But you are not a 
coward to force yourself upon a woman who shrinks from 
you. 

“ You are my wife,^-’ he said. 

“ Spare me,^^ pleaded Hester, “ if you have any spark of 
generosity or any delicacy. You werenT always cruel — 
when you didnT drink. 

“Yes,^^ he said, “that was what did it all — drink. 
YouT’e right. But ten years" prison-fare has taken that 
craving out of me. Hetty,"" and he went nearer to her, 
with outstretched arms, “ you" re my wife. I"ve a right to 
your kisses. I"ve a right to you."" 

“ Lance,"" said the poor girl, retreating further from 
him into the dimness of the cave, and crouching against the 
rock, where she looked up at him with agonized eyes, 

“ what good will it do you? You can"t care for me. And 
I — "" she drew a deep breath — “ I hate you.^" 

He dropped his arms, and fell sullenly back, then stood 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


21 


silent with darkened face and lips tightly drawn together. 
His breast heaved; his eyes were on the ground. It was 
evident that there was a conflict of feeling within him. 
She, watching him, apprehensive of every movement, saw 
at last that it was over, and involuntarily heaved a sigh of 
relief. 

“ Come out,^^ he said; “ I^m not a wild beast; though, 
God knows, IVe been hunted, and driven, and goaded, till 
there ^s not much of the man left in me. Ifll not touch 
you; ril not even ask you to give me your hand.” 

She moved forward trembling. 

‘‘ Sit down,” he said, more gently. 

She sunk upon the seat he had placed for her. 

‘‘ There neednT be any sentiment between us,” he said, 
after a pause, since you donT like it. Perhaps you have 
had enough of that sort of thing for to-day. But realities 
canT be done away with. You have been married to me; 
and I suppose you have not forgotten that I am the child ^s 
father?” 

A sob broke from her. She put her head down upon her 
hands. 

‘‘Oh, Lance!” she said, “ that^s what Pm* thinking. 
That^s what^s tearing at me. It makes it all real. I^m 
not bad — I — It makes me know that I — that it -s wicked to 
— that I canT break away from my life. ” 

“ No,” he said, slowly, “you canT. A woman is an 
honest woman or she is not. 

Hester gave a little shudder. 

“ There^’s things you canT get away from. TheyTe like 
birth, or death, or growing old,” continued Murgatroyd 
with coarse directness. “ Love may be a law of human 
nature; but marriage is one too; and, call it by what flne 
names you please, iPs a fall when a woman, who is one 
man^s wife and has been the mother of his child, becomes 
another man^s — 

A cry from Hester arrested the words on his lips. 

“ DonT! don’t!” she cried. “ I know it all.” 

“ The child is dead.^” he said. 

“ She is dead. She is buried at Doondi.” 

He uttered an incoherent ejaculation, and seemed to be 
thinking painfully. Presently he said — 

“ So that’s over. I thought as much. Well, it’s a good 
job for her, perhaps. It’s a bad one for you.” 


218 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


Yes/^ drearily assented Hester, it^s a bad one for 


me.- 


The little one would have kept you straight. You're 
alone now." 

“ Yes," she repeated. 

He made a few steps down the cave, then turned and 
stopped before her. 

“You've run straight for fourteen years. That's a long 
time. You're not as young as you were. It 'ud be better 
if you went on. You're in your father's house. You don't 
want for anything. He treats you well, I suppose?" 

“Yes." 

“ Let the rest go. What is it, after all? D- — d rot! 
You proved that with me. The love didn't last long." 

She made a deprecating movement with her hands. 

“ I knew what you'd say. He's a different sort of chap 
from me. White-handed and smooth-tongued — writes 
verses — Well, I used to sing them — a gentleman which I 
never was. But you believe me. You wouldn't get your 
money's worth. The love doesn't last. It never lasts 
when it's dragged through the mud. That's human nat- 
ure; and* I've learned it, even in jail and in the bush. A 
queer thing for me to turn moral!" He paused, and 
laughed. She shuddered again. 

“You'd better stop on with your father. I'll not bother 
you. I didn't know you were in these parts or I'd have 
kept out of them." 

“ You didn't know — !" 

“ How should I? For all I guessed till I ran do’VYn the 
Eura you were in the old place still. Gippsland got too 
hot for me, after a scrimmage I had with the troopers — a 
man shot — and then bushranging becomes a swinging busi-f 
ness! Well, I don't much care when the end comes; but 
I'll never die that dog's death while I have a revolver and 
a charge of gunpowder left. ' ' 

“ Lance," said Hester, “ why did you take to this life? 
You were free!" 

“ Free — yes. Free to starve! . After I was let out I tried 
work. No one would keep me. As soon as I got settled 
at anything the police gave information, and I was hooted 
off. Then it was a case of tramp. For days together I've 
gone without food except what I picked up by the road. If 
you have to live on guanas and kangaroos you'd better turn 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


219 


black at^once. I and two other pals, one day when we were 
desperate, stuck up Wotonga store, and then we took 
regularly to the bush. I called myself Captain Rainbow. 
Did yoii ever hear of the Jewboy?^^ 

‘‘ He was hanged for bushranging in More ton Bay twenty 
years ago. One of my pals got the secret of this cave from 
him. There^s a store of gunpowder here now that he laid 
by. 

Lance, said Hester, rising, and approaching him with 
clasped hands, I am not afraid of you now. I pity you 
with my whole heart. Give up this bad life. You tell me 
‘ ^ ’ ashamed — and I will — I will. 



Go away to America, or 


Fiji, where you could begin again. 

“ Fve thought of Fiji,^^ said Murgatroyd; ‘‘ I might get 
along there, even if there was a row or two. But I couldn^’t 
manage it now. I^m a marked man. And as for begin- 
ning again, I^m not the sort to plod on respectably. I 
never was. I tell you, Hester, the excitement of carrying 
my life in my hand is the only thing that makes it endura- 
ble.^^ 

“ Oh!^^ she pleaded, “in another country, where ^ there 
might be excitement without crime., Try. If you want 
money, IVe a few cattle and horses. I^’ll get Sib to sell 
them for me. It wouldnT be much, but it might take you 
away. ■’ ^ 

“ YouM help me off. YouM do anything short of going 
with me. I suppose that^s it. 

“ Fd do all I could for you.'’^ 

“ Except go with me? Answer." 

“ There^s a gulf between you and me, Lance, that can 
never be crossed,^'’ she replied slowly. 

“ Then,^^ said he, savagely, “ donT waste breath in talk- 
ing of impossibilities. IFs all to your interest that I should 
put myself into the jaws of the police. When I am done 
for, you ^11 have things your own way; but, mark me, you 
had better not take a bite out of the apple before you have 
paid for it.'’’ 

At that instant Hester realized, with an intensity that 
staggered her, the extraordinary revulsion of impulse and 
feeling which the meeting with her outcast husband had 
wrought. His allusion to her dead child, the revival of 


220 


THE HEAD STATION". 


memories full of agony and humiliation, his very coarseness, 
seemed to have torn away the more delicate growth* of later 
years, leaving the bare stern fact of her life, beside which 
her imaged future vanished like a dream. 

Murgatroyd took out his watch again. 

“ The time is up. 1^11 be fair with you. 

Hester moved, mechanically gathering up her habit. 
Her eyes were full of tears; she looked at her husband with 
a mixture of entreaty and relenting, 

“I'm glad to have seen you once more," said Mur- 
gatroyd. ‘ ‘ When the police give me a chance ITl get 
clear of the Eura, and keep out of your way. If anything 
happens to me ITl try to get it made known to you through 
my pals. Good-bye, Hester. " 

“ Good-bye, Lance." 

She put out both her hands, and he clasped them within 
his. Thus husband and wife stood with eyes fixed upon 
each other's faces. It was a strange moment, one of those 
crises in existence when words seem a mockery. 

He let her hands fall. 

“ I wish," he said, hastily, “ that you'd think over all 
that you have got to lose or gain before you chuck up your 
father and the rest. I'm nothing. I'm only a clog, but 
you may be rid of me sooner than you count upon, and it's 
worth while waiting a bit." 

He gave her one earnest look and then disappeared into 
the passage through which he had brought her into his re- 
treat. 

After a few moments he returned again, and, takmg her 
hand, led her to the tunnel. 

“ There is no one out there," he said. “ You must 
crawl along, and when you get to the moutl drop down. 
It's better that I shouldn't run any risk of being seen. 
Good-bye. " 

“ Good-bye," she repeated, and they jiarted. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

AFTEE THE CEISIS. 

Hester did as he had bidden her. The light guided her 
to the mouth of the tunnel, and then it was but a moment's 
work to push aside the mulgam bushes and let herself down 


THE HEAD STATION. 


321 


to the level ground. As she emerged from the inner recess 
she saw Durnford approaching through the outlet in the 
rocks. He hurried toward her, alarmed by something 
strange and wild in her appearance. 

“Dearest/^ he exclaimed, “I could wait no longer.'’^ 
He looked at her more closely. What is the matter? 
You are so pale. Your habit is torn. It was not so when 
we came in. 

She glanced down. There was a rent in the skirt where 
it had been caught on a sharp corner of rock as Murgatroyd 
dragged her through the gallery. 

“ I donT know,"’^ she answered, in a far-away tone; “ it 
doesnT matter. 

But you are so pale,^^ he continued. “ Has anything 
frightened you?'’^ 

“No,^^ she replied with * a sort of deadly quietude; “I 
am not frightened. 

“ Your hand is bleeding,-’.^ he cried, pointing to where 
the thorns of a creeper had pierced her flesh. He took out 
his pocket-handkerchief and wrapped it round the wound. 
She submitted with a painful delight in being thus tended 
— perhaps for the last time. Mistaking her gentleness, he 
stooped and kissed her wrist; then, with a gesture of ap- 
propriation, placed her hand within his arm. 

She drew it back. 

Let -us go away,^^ she said, in that same quiet voice. 

She tied on her hat, and they walked side by side to 
where the rocks opened. She turned then, and took a long 
look at the dell, glancing round the encircling precipice and 
up at the scrub-covered range, and the turret-like summit 
of Oomongin rising behind. 

‘‘No one would ever find this place, she said, thought- 
fully, “ unless they happen to drop upon it unawares as we 
did. 

“ No,^^ he answered; “it is very likely that we are the 
only white persons who have ever entered it.'’^ 

“No man on horseback could get here?^'’ she asked. 

“ It would be impossible to ride across the ravine, he 
said; and added, surprised at her tone, “ Darhng, why do 
you speak so strangely ?^^ 

“We shall never come here again, she replied. 

“ But the world will be ours,'’ ’ he said, “ and we shall be 
together in other places as wild and beautiful as this, ” 


222 


THE HEAD STATION. 


He watched her narrowly as he spoke. Her face was like 
a mask. At that moment a cooee pierced the glade. Hes- 
ter started, and moved on in haste and agitation. 

“ Come/^ she said, ‘‘ they are looking for us. Don^t 
cooee yet. I don'^t want them to find us here.^^ 

She almost ran in her eagerness, stumbling over the loose 
stones, and pushing her way through the overhanging 
houghs. Now she paused and glanced up uneasily at the 
white marks he had made upon the trees. 

A deadly fear blanched her face. She turned to him. 

They ^11 think, she said, slowly, '‘that the track has 
been blazed on purpose. 

He eyed her in concern and wonder. 

" What then? Who will think? Hester, I am sure 
something hasfrighteDed you.^'’ 

" I didnT want any one to know — to find out where we 
have been,’^ she said nervously. 

" Oh, that is what troubled you!^^ and he smiled in re- 
lief and joy. “ Sweetest, neither black nor white man is 
likely to pass this way before the bark has grown again. 
The spot will henceforth be sacred to us and to our love.^^ 

She trembled violently. “ No, no. 

" Dear one!^'’ he said, trembling also from the excess of 
his emotion, “ our compact is sealed, is it not? Our fives 
are consecrated to each other. You have decided F’"* 

“ DonT speak to me of it,” she exclaimed, passionately. 
' ' I am not fit now. Take me back quickly to the camp, 
and then leave me. At Doondi, I will tell you. Only let 
us make haste now.” 

Her extreme agitation filled him with anxiety. He saw 
that she was completely overwrought, and blamed himself; 
while again he urged her to tell him if anything had alarmed 
her while she had been alone. But she only shook her head 
and hurried on. He took her hand in his and guided her 
silently, sometimes almost carrying her over the obstacles 
which impeded their rapid progress. Now and then he 
cooed in answer to the calls which at intervals rang through 
the scrub. 

Hester seemed to become calmer as they neared the tryst- 
ing-place. The remainder of the party had assembled at 
the edge of the ravine, and were lounging, chattering, and 
sifting their floral spoil. Some of them were in poor plight, 
notably Gretta, whose habit had. come to signal grief, and 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


22S 


Captain Clephane. He, however, exhibited with pride a 
magnificent orchid, for which he declared that he had risked 
his neck. 

“ What adventures have you had?^^ cried Gretta, as the 
two laggards approached. “ Have you found the cave?"^ 

“ Ho,-’^ answered Durnford, while Hester grew white to 
the lips and sunk down as if exhausted on the grass. 

‘‘ Or the water-hole continued Gretta. 

‘‘ No/^ said Durnford, again. ‘‘ I thought that was the 
object of your search. 

‘‘So it was, returned Gretta; “ but I don^t believe in 
the cave, the water-hole, or the debbil debbil. They are 
all myths. I mean to talk seriously to Combo on our way 
home. 

“ Everything is a myth,^^ observed Wyatt, in a melan- 
choly tone, “ especially, he added, in an aside to Gretta, 
“ the pleasure of exploring^ in a company of three. 

“Bertram is disappointed,-’^ remarked Clephane; “he 
thought that he had sighted a land-bunyip up a bottle-tree, 
and it turned out to be the head of a jew-lizard of phe- 
nomenal proportions, in combination with the tail of a 
bandicoot. 

“ And what discoveries did you and Miss Gauntlett make, 
Mr. Gustavus?’^ asked Gretta, mischievously, turning to 
Old Gold, who, in a discomposed manner, and with bilious 
energy, was readjusting his gaiters. Gretta bawled her 
question a second time before he turned, nervously alert. 

“ We — we — we found the grove of palms. Miss Beay.^^ 

“ Are you sure they weren’t grass-trees, Mr. Gustavusr 
You know that under certain circumstances your imagina- 
tion works wonders. Only the other day when you were 
walking with Miss Gauntlett it turned a native componuon 
into a heron.” 

“ Poof, poof!” cried Joe, who advanced staggering under 
the weight of a yellowing bunya-cone. “We refuse to swal- 
low the palm-grove without evidence.” 

“ ‘ His sandals were with travel tore, 

Staff, budget, bottle, scrap, he wore; 

The faded palm-branch in his hand 
Shewed pilgrim from the Holy Land,’ ” 

promptly returned Mr. Blaize, himself again, holding forth 
a veritable palm-frond. 

“ Did you climb the stem yourself for it, Mr. Gustavus?” 


THE HEAD STATION. 


2U 

asked Joe, impudently, ‘‘or did you send up another 
monkey to fetch it down?’^ whereupon Joe was rebuked by 
Gretta, and Isabel appealed to for particulars. 

The young girl turned very red. She envied Gretta her 
Australian sang-froid. Gretta^s experience in fliilation 
had placed her beyond the possibility of embarrassment in 
the presence of a disconcerted suitor, but Isabel was still a 
long way from that moral elevation, and ^le looked pained 
and conscious, and markedly averted her eyes from Mr. 
Gustavus^s direction.. 

“ I was not with Mr. Blaize when he found the palms,” 
she said. 

“That woiiT do,^^ exclaimed Joe; “ you started together.'’^ 

“And you came back together, averred Mark. 

“ corrected Joe. “ They were three yards apart. 
They werenT speaking. They looked as though theyM 
had a quarrel. Did you quarrel. Miss Gamitlett?"’-’ 

But Isabel evaded the question by moving away, and just 
then Ferguson bToke in — 

“ Mrs. Murgatroyd, I am sure you have walked too far.” 

Hester shook her head. Durnford^s sad inquiring eyes, 
meeting hers, sent the blood to her cheek for an instant, 
but it faded immediately, leaving her ashen pale. Ferguson 
poured a little brandy and water into a pannikin, and made 
her drink it. When she had done so, she declared herself 
quite equal"to the climb, and begged that they might re- 
turn at once to the camp. 

“ I think that Hester must have seen the Bunyip,” said 
Gretta, buckhng up her habit, “ she is in such a hurry to 
get off.” 

Captain Clephane carefully strapped his orchid on his 
back, and Joe shouldered his bunya-cone. Presently they 
were in the bed of the ravine again, with the precipice tow- 
ering forbiddingly above them; and hand in hand began the 
climb. A feverish energy sustained Hester. She knew 
that the moment of collapse would come, but it must not 
be yet. Gretta, flushed with excitement, seemed to exult in 
difficulties. Isabel, the frailest of the party, had the largest 
body-guard. 

On a rock, midway, with his legs dangling and a pipe in 
his mouth, sat Pat Desmond, who announced, that the 
horses were saddled, and that he had been sent to hurry 
them up. 


THE HEAD STATIOl?'. 


225 


‘‘ And it’s for wanst that I am the better of you/’ he 
cried, holding out his stick for Gretta to catch. 

Braddick was descending more leisurely. Supporting 
himself against a grass-tree, he stretched his pole down to 
Isabel, and, when she had gained sure footing, retreated 
higher, and repeated the assistance. Clephane, who was a 
capital mountaineer, did the same for Hester, and the ascent 
was accomplished with less danger than might have been 
expected. 

Meanwhile, at the camp, Mollie Clephane had filled one 
of the saddle-bags with wild plums, chuckie-chuckies, and 
the scrub-turkey’s eggs, which Pat and Braddick had 
brought. Then she took out her knitting, and worked 
placidly under the shelter of a rock, congratulating herself 
upon having chosen the better part. 

Mr. Beay made up the fire, and boiled a billy of tea for 
their joint refection. He held a long discourse with the 
black boys, and might have wormed the secret of the Bora 
from Combo had not a ‘‘ sugar-bag ” attracted the attention 
of Billy, and the three forthwith proceeded to chop it out 
of a venerable iron-bark tree. He next started an opossum, 
and with much zest burned the brute out of its refuge in a 
hollow log. Then he amused himself gathering quantong 
for a necklace for Jinks, and — after giving orders to have 
the horses saddled, and bidding Pat and Braddick cooee for 
the others — finally composed himself to sleep under the 
quantong-tree. He was awakened by the arrival of the ex- 
ploring party, and turned, dazed and drowsy. 

What’s the row? Have the tailing mob started again ?” 

He had been dreaming that he was overlanding cattle. 

Why, God bless me I have had a doze; and it’s getting 
on in the afternoon. Let’s be off, and get down the range 
before dark. ” 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

BACK TO DOOHDI. 

Conversation' fiagged during the homeward ride. The 
party had a battered and depressed air, and a casual ob- 
server might readily have discerned that since the departure 
from Doondi something momentous had happened to several 
of its members. 

8 


THE HEAD STATION. 


22(j 

The tired horses jogged along heavily, and even Joe, 
Mark, and the black boys, who led the front, seemed dis- 
pirited. A good deal of hesitation was shown in regard to 
the pairing-off. Two or three of the gentlemen dragged 
despondently behind, and there was an evident restraint be- 
tween the couples who had been most cordial at starting. 
Mollie and her husband were the only two who talked 
cheerfully. Hester clung to Sib, and Gretta and Isabel 
found themselves together. Both girls laughed a little 
consciously. 

VVell?^^ asked Gretta. 

“ It^s nothing, returned Isabel, drearily. 

‘‘ It^s just— everything,'^ said Gretta, with an emphasis, 
a tone of voice that Isabel had never heard in her before. 

That is," she added, with her little laugh, “it's every- 
thing to somebody." 

“ I don't know quite what you mean, or who should care 
so much." 

“ Not Old Gold," answered Gretta, lightly. “ He's a 
hardened subject. I think," she said, impulsively, “ that 
this is the very strangest beginning a new year ever had. " 

“ For me," interrupted Isabel. “ Yes, that is true." 

“ And for me. I wish I knew if I were happy or miser- 
able." - 

Isabel looked at Gretta in surprise. Such a spasmodic 
burst of confidence was rare. The Australian girl was not, 
outwardly, given to sentiment. She wondered whether 
there had b^een a misunderstanding with Ferguson, or 
whether Wyatt was veering round from his old allegiance. 
If so, it was natural that Gretta should feel embarrassed 
and remorseful at inflicting pain. Then, with a shock, 
there came upon Isabel the realization of the absorption in 
herself and in Braddick which had made her blind to the 
affairs around her. 

Gretta resumed in a different manner. “We look a 
draggle-tailed set, don't we? One wouldn't say there was 
much tendency to flirtation about us — or pride of conquest. 
Isa, don't let yourself be disturbed by a proposal from Mr. 
Gustavus. It's quite an every-day occurrence, I assure 
you." 

“ Oh, Gretta! Of course it's nonsense." 

“ Dreadful nonsense! The wound is only skin-deep. It 
doesn't go further than his vanity. He did me the honor 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


227 


not long ago. Before that he was the victim of a mis- 
placed passion for Hester. 

“ Mrs. Murgatroyd?"^ exclaimed Isabel. 

“ It was at the root of his prying into Mr. Durnford^s 
concerns, and ferreting out the secret of ‘ Soul and Star. ' I 
suppose he hoped that something disgraceful would come 
to light. 

But why 

Oh, now you see the absurdity. He tCok it into his 
head that she had inspired the poem. We have always 
chaffed Hester ever since about her poet. They are both 
up in the clouds. Poor old Hester! No fear of her com- 
ing down to earth. She has had her dose of practical ro- 
mance. It was enough to sicken her. ” 

He is vindictive, then,-’^ said Isabel, thoughtfully. 

‘‘Mr. Blaize? He is devoured by the green-eyed mon- 
ster. I have no doubt he would have taken vengeance on 
me if you hadnT diverted his attention. At this moment I 
am sure that he is horribly jealous of our handsome 
drover. ^ ^ 

Isabel uttered an inarticulate “ Oh!^^ 

“ Was he tragic?^ ^ 

“ Yes; I didnT know what to say to him.'’^ 

“You want practice. It^s quite necessary on the Eura. 
Mr. Braddick is a gentleman I see. 

“ I know that. ^ ^ 

“ But there^’s a mystery about him. ” 

Isabel was silent. 

“ Old Gold has a genius for scenting mysteries. Some- 
thing he said to-day made me fancy he was on the trail. 
Don^t be nervous, Isabel; I have got some comfort for you. 
He starts for Wyeroo at daylight to-morrow. There dl be 
a general collapse. 

“ Every one is going — 

“ Mustering on the Selection — except Mr. Ferguson and 
Mr. Wyatt, who are off to Gundalunda. After all, it isnT 
much consolation. I know Gustavus^s ways. HeTl refer 
to his diaries and cudgel his brains, and if there '’s any disa- 
greeable revelation to be made hedl write it. He is far too 
great a coward to throw his own bomb.^^ 

“You doiiT really mean what you are saying, Gretta. It 
would be too improbable that Mr. Blaize should know any- 
thing to the discredit of — 


228 


THE HEAD STATION. 


Isabel did not finish her sentence; she spoke anxiously. 

‘‘I^mnot serious/^ answered Gretta, laughing. ‘‘ Tm 
only imaginative. 1 like inventing situations; it^s so nice 
to infuse a little melodrama into this ‘ eucalyptic cloister- 
dom/ don^t you know. But it isn^t so improbable/'’ she 
continued, after a pause, during which some inequalities in 
the road had divided them. ‘‘ Most gentlemanly English- 
men one comes across out here without money or friends 
can be tracked back to the time when they had both; and 
there must have been a reason for their having lost them.^-’ 
There may have been reasons wliich were not dishonor- 
able.’^ 

‘‘ Perhaps; anyhow I am quite ready to believe there is 
nothing bad about this Englishman — I like his face — I 
should trust him. ” 

‘‘ Who is this fortunate Enghshman whom you would 
trust, Miss Eeay?” asked Wyatt, riding up. ‘‘1 hope you 
don’t insinuate that Englishmen as a rule are not to be 
trusted?” 

‘‘ I think so, but — Why? since you were born in Aus- 
tralia. ” 

‘‘ I count myself half, if not wholly, an Englishman. 
Was it Braddick?” 

‘‘ Yes. Is he trustworthy, according to a man’s view?’^ 

“ Gh! I’d go by a woman’s instinct. It’s like a dog’s. 
A man is either a gentleman ora cad, you know — as Grand- 
court says in ‘ Daniel Deronda.’ ” 

“ Appearances are deceptive,” rejoined Gretta, with lev- 
ity, which had a suspicion of nervousness. 

What makes you so cjmical?” 

‘‘ Painful experience. I’ll give you an instance. Jack 
Clephane once got hold of two new chums by hazard. One 
was delightful and a mystery. The other an ill-mannered 
doll. I lost my fancy — I won’t say my heart — to the mys- 
tery, afterward discovered to be a very disreputable person, 
and, alas! I rejected the dolt, who one mail-day was trans- 
formed into a baronet, with a rent-roll and a castle. Think 
of the chance I lost.” 

‘‘ I sympathize with you — ^look out for that log. But the 
rent-roll and the castle might have been dearly purchased 
at the price of the dolt’s society. ’ ’ 

Gretta paused to seize a parasite lily which hung tempt- 
ingly. There was a check. Isabel moved forward to join 


THE HEAD STATIOif. 


229 


Ferguson, who rode a few yards in advance. Gretta fast- 
ened the blossom in her habit. 

Isn^t a well-regulated English mind superior to such a 
consideration?"^ she asked demurely; “ I hope that under 
those circumstances my mind would have regulated itself 
very quickly. "" 

‘‘ Oh, I see that I was mistaken,"" said Wyatt, bitterly, 
‘‘ The feminine standpoint is much the same in both worlds. 
Let me recommend you to invest in a Book of the Peerage 
and a Register of the Landed Gentry. You"d find them 
useful. "" 

He diverged, skirting a bowlder, and then they dipped 
into a gully. 

It was now late in the afternoon, and to the east the sun- 
set sky shone between the trunks of the lanky gum-trees. 
They were emerging from the mountainous region, and, as 
they rose on the crest of the gully, looked toward a low 
horizon. Before them stretched wave-like undulations, blu- 
ish green in hue, barrdd, at one point only, by the cleft 
side of Knapp" s Cliff, which lay to the right of Doondi and 
facing Comongin. They lingered here for a moment, ad- 
miring the view, but it was an artifice of Wyatts to get out 
of ear-shot. They were the last of the party, and could see 
the little procession vvinding down, Mr. Reay"s white shirt, 
showing against the blackened grass-trees, and the black 
boys" crimson handkerchiefs worn contrasting with the 
somberness of the thickly wooded bush. 

‘‘ I have no castle to place at your disposal,"" said Wyatt,, 
abruptly, as they moved on again, but I have more to 
offer now than I had eighteen months ago."" 

“ More than you offered Miss Baldock? I ought to con- 
gratulate myself,"" said Gretta, with a sort of passionate 
sarcasm. A moment later she hated herself for having so 
spoken. 

‘‘You are fencing with me,"" said Wyatt, deliberately 
drawing in his horse, and looking at her in a manner which 
compelled Gretta" s mental acknowledgment that he was her 
master; “you have been holding me at arm"s-length ever 
since I told you that I loved you. I have had no answer. 
Why? Why did you insist upon Ferguson and the boys 
joining us in our search for the water-hole:"" 

“There was no reason why they shouldn"t look for the 
water-hole, too."" 


230 


THE HEAD STATION. 


He gave a short laugh. 

“Ho; there wasnH. I am churlish and discontented at 
having been kept waiting. I am beginning to believe what 
people say of you. ” 

“ What do they say?^^ 

“ That you like to dangle your admirers on tenter-hooks.^^ 

“ And you object to being classed with other people, Mr. 
Wyatt? You want ever}i;hing your own way.'’^ 

“ Frankly, I want one particular thing my own way. Is 
that so unnatural ?^^ 

“ I suppose not. I like my own way too. 

“ Don’t fence with me,” he pleaded; “ give me my an- 
swer honestly. ” 

“It is difficult to know quite what the question is you 
wish me to answer.” 

“ Oh!” he exclaimed, “ ITl 23ut it briefly. Do you care 
for me a little?” 

He held out his hand toward her, and • his fine earnest 
eyes glowed on her face. He looked the picture of a chival- 
rous knight very much in love. So Gretta thought. • He 
was surely in earnest. But — There was a dart which 
pierced home, and her own pride drove it. For a moment 
her form swayed in a delicious gesture, her eyes melted, 
her lips parted. But she bent herself back, her form curv- 
ing like that of a proud Diana. He stooped and laid his 
hand entreatingly on the pommel of her saddle. She shook 
the reins. Brunette made a bound, and the distance be- 
tween them widened. When they were together again she 
turned to him without tremor. It was much better he 
should think her a coquette. Yet she had a secret con- 
sciousness that he knew her for what she was, as liis next 
words revealed. 

“ Come,” he said, “I’ll combat all your arguments if 
youTl state them fairly.” 

“ I have none,” said Gretta. 

“You don’t tell me that I am nothing to you?” 

She was silent. 

“ Let me imagine,” he continued, “ that you like me a 
little, now, and may love me by and by. ” 

“ If the first is all you ask?” 

“ It is enough — for my purpose — at present. Here is an 
opening for conditions, and I want to know what yours are. ” 

“ I don’t impose any conditions,” said Gretta. 


THE HEAD STATIONS'. 


•^31 


Then a pledge. Far better/^ he urged. 

‘‘No, not that/^ she exclaimed; “ nothing here, or for a 
long time.’’^ 

“ When and where, then?^-’ 

“We shall meet in Leichardt^s Town. But not then. 
Not till after our return,"' said Gretta, with slight agitation. 

“ I had no thought of going to Leichardt's Town," he 
answered. 

“ Oh, I wished it!" 

“ If that be so, and you are there — then it is understood 
that I go." 

“ Papa has promised me a taste of gayety. He must be 
in town, since he has taken office, and we shall go soon. It 
will be an early session. The members of the Leichardt's 
Land Club give a ball to the new governor some time in 
March. " 

“ I see. You look upon the ball as an ordeal for me." 

Gretta did not answer. 

“ I don't shrink from it." He waited a minute, and then 
said, “ I respect your reserve. I think that I fathom its 
motive. But notwithstanding — won't you believe that you 
have made me very happy? If you would only give me a 
word — a sign that you care a little for me!" 

Gretta 's cheek flamed, but she shook her head. 

“ Nothing?" he asked. 

“ No, nothing." 

“ Not even the flower you have just gathered?" 

She shook her head again. 

“lam afraid of you," he said. “ At least you will name 
a definite time for my probation? Don't be hard on me, 
and keep me dangling too long. The return from Lei- 
chardt's Town sounds so vague. AVhat if there should be 
another political crisis or a prolonged session?" 

“ You'd survive it," Gretta's laugh rang silver-like. The 
taste of power over him intoxicated her. 

“This is New-year's-day," he said; “let us divide the 
year into quarters. At the end of three months I shall claim 
your answer. " 

“Oh!" she exclaimed, “that does not give you time 
enough. ' ' 

“ I can only repeat that you pay yourself a bad compli- 
ment," he returned gravely, and they rode on for a few 
paces in silence. 


232 


THE HEAD STATION’. 


The horse's heads were even, and the arm which carriea 
her whip lay loosely. He lifted the gloved hand and kissed 
it, but made no further demand for word or for flower. 

The flne aroma of courtliness about his wooing pleased 
the refined anti- Australian part of her. The fear, so swiftly 
conceived of love, lest he should find her wanting in deli- 
cacy, bare of maiden bloom, pricked her for an instant and 
brought the blushes. 

They were on level ground now, and the sun had set. 
The others had spurred forward. Gretta and Wyatt fol- 
lowed example, and there was a swinging canter across a 
bare flat, and then a spurt after a kangaroo, which infused 
some new animation into the party and broke it into hew 
combinations. Dark fell. The stars came forth. Alde- 
baran and the Scorpion shone resplendent. The night in- 
sects burst into sound. The darkness was a veil, hiding sad 
faces. Subtle sympathies played beneath it, and hearts 
drew near under its tents. Braddick and Isabel rode to- 
gether for the first time that day. It was a confession, on 
his part, of the craving to be with her which had been 
sternly repressed. The peaceful melancholy of the night 
comforted ihem. They said little, yet every commonplace 
word was touched by the sweetness and emotion of the 
hour, and by the mystery and foreboding which lay in the 
background. Afterward, when Isabel tried to recall the 
conversation, she could remember nothing but trivial, in- 
consequent sentences; though the thrill of them, and of his 
looks, the impression of his half-averted profile, the scent 
of the aromatic gums, the spears of the grass-trees, and 
the wonder of it all, and the beauty, lingered vividly. 

It was ten o'clock before they reached the slip-rails. Near 
home the horses had become brisker, and Gretta was herself 
again. They had started a chorus, as was their wont, to 
the accompaniment of cracking whips, in order to annomice 
their return. Hester did not join in it. It had not been 
generally noticed how pale and silent she was, and the 
dazed manner in which she held her reins, letting her horse 
take her as it would. Sib rode stolidly a yard or two in 
advance of his sister, taciturn as usual, but not unmindful 
of her, and throwing back an occasional warning. “ Look 
out for this point, Hester! Hold on! Paddymelon hole!" 
and so forth. 

Durnford, hovering near, was on the alert; but when 


THE HEAD STATIOi^. 


233 


once or twice he approached her she- turned upon him a 
gaze of dumb beseeching and silently motioned him back. 
He knew instinctively that her nerves were strained to the 
breaking, and trembled for the reaction from excitement 
and fatigue which she must suffer upon awakening to her- 
self. She was stunned now — in a dream. He realized this 
more strongly when he watched her dismount at the court- 
yard. She slipped heavily from her saddle, stood for a mo- 
ment as if uncertain of her whereabouts, and then feebly 
mounted the wooden steps. She paused again: her form 
swayed. She stretched out her arm and blindly groped for 
the veranda. No one else seemed to observe her except 
Maafu, who held her horse, and ejaculated in alarm, 

Missee Murgatroyd!^^ There was necessarily a little con- 
fusion in the court-yard, and all were self -engrossed. The 
dogs barked, the young black boys exchanged confidences 
with Combo. Jinks called out eager queries about the 
Bunyip and the water-hole, and Mrs. Blaize, standing at the 
edge of the veranda, was voluble in her exclamations.* 

Durnford sprung up the steps and supported Hester as 
she was falling. He felt that her hands were icy, and the 
mingled moonlight, and the lamp-light streaming through 
the open doors, showed him the ghastliness of her face. 

‘‘Mrs. Blaize!'’^ he cried; and in a minute Aunt Judith 
had loosened the strings of Hester^s hat, and was adminis- 
tering brandy, which brought the life back again, and gave 
the poor girl strength to stagger toward the open door of 
her bedroom. 

“Dear heart exclaimed Mrs. Blaize. “Hester! who 
never minds the heat or how far she rides! Now, if it had 
been Isabel who’d have wondered? ’ YeTl come straight to 
bed, my love, and ITl bring my old man to you. If there ^s 
any one that^s equal to an emergency, with all his wits 
about him and his medicine-chest primed, it^s Mr. Blaize.-’^ 

“Eh! Nonsense !^^ said Mr. Reay, really anxious, and 
chafing his daughter '’s hands. “ She doesn't Want physic, 
she's but wearying for her rest. The dingoes didn't let any 
one get a wink of sleep last night — at least I don't think 
so. There — she 's coming to. ' ' 

Hester roused herself. “ Don't bother about me," she 
said; “papa is right. I only want rest. Oh! please go 
away," she added, with pitiful effort. “You must all be 
tired too — and I'm quite well. Good-night." 


234 : 


THE HEAD STATION. 


They dispersed. Aunt Judith fussily lit the candles 
within the bedroom. Durnford, pale and full of anxiety, 
leaned against the veranda-post, his eyes fixed upon Hester. 

‘‘ You will not let me do anything for you:"^ he asked. 

She stood like a statue. Her eyes only seemed living. 
He never forgot the look she gave him. 

Good-bye she said, and turned to look back once 
again. “ Good-bye, she repeated, very low, and, then 
entering, closed the door. 


CHAPTER XXXYII. 

MOLLIE, DON^T BE HAKD. 

Ik the early morning Mollie Olephane was awakened by 
a tremulous tap at her door. She opened it, and was hor- 
rified at the ghost-like figure which stood at the threshold. 
Hester, her face as pale as .the white dressing-gown she 
wore, black circles round her eyes, dilated pupils, drawn 
features, and teeth chattering. 

Mollie she gasped. “ I think I^m ill. I have been 
shivering, and V\e had faint fits. Have you got sal-vola- 
tile — or anything?^ ^ 

In a moment Mollie had thrust herself into a wrapper, 
and was searching for her husband’s spirit-flask. 

‘‘ Don’t wake Jack,” chattered Hester, clinging to the 
lintel. 

Mollie led her across a sort of bath-room, into which the 
Olephane quarters opened, to a cedar-lined back-veranda 
chamber — Hester’s own. Here she put her into bed, and 
drew the blankets closely round her. Hot summer morning 
though it was, something like death-dew l:-ad risen on Hes- 
ter’s brow. She shut her eyes, and the bed shook with her 
shivering. Prom that she passed to faintness. Mollie 
chafed her hands and forced brandy down her throat. 
Strong as Hester habitually seemed, it . was not the first 
time Mollie had ministered to her sister in like condition. 
After her flight from her husband, once secure under her 
father’s roof, Hester had succumbed in the same way — 
fainting and shivering fits had succeeded each other, result- 
ing in complete prostration for days. 

“ A shock to the nervous system,” the doctor would 


THE HEAD STAT£02^. 


235 


have said, but on an Australian station need must be im- 
perative for a doctor to be summoned fifty or a hundred 
miles; and medical aid, save such as Mr, Blaize might be 
able to afford, was the last thing which entered Mollie’s 
head. She was slipping out of the room with the intention 
of seeking Aunt Judith -when Hester, divining her thought, 
rose in bed and as well as her shaking teeth would allow, 
commanded her to remain. 

Stop with nae. I don^t want any one to know. I will 
not have Aunt Judith. Mollie— sit down.^^ 

Mollie obeyed, and continued to rub her hands and give 
her brandy at intervals. After a time the shivering ceased, 
and Hester lay, without speaking, holding Mollie^ s hand 
tightly. The day broke into activity. There were the 
usual morning sounds, the running up of horses and milk- 
ers, the cracking of whips, Maafu clattering the milk-pails, 
the sound of men^s voices in the court-yard, Olephane call- 
in ' ’ ‘s wife. 



Mollie went to the door. 

“ HonT tell him,'’^ pleaded Hester. 

“ What^s up?'’^ asked Olephane. 

Then a murmur. 

‘‘ Tell her to take it ' lay. We are all off to the 



bolted again. Isabel and 


Selection. The roan 


Gretta are knocked up too. Look after Isabel. She is 
brittle. I should think you have all had enough of camp- 
ing-out. Good-bye, old girl.^^ 

Mollie came back again. The sun streamed in through 
the chinks of the blind, revealing the disorder of the room. 
The sun streamed in through the chinks of the blind, re- 
vealing the disorder of the room. It was evident that Hes- 
ter had passed a restless night. Little bits of torn paper 
were scattered about; the blotting-book was open on the 
writing-table, the pen in the ink-pot, and both candles 
burned into the sockets. 

“You have been writing, said Mollie; “ it^s those 
plays again. ^ 

“A play!"^ said Hester, hysterically. ^ ^ 

“ There's no use in it if it sets you shivering. Before, it 
turned your mind. '' 

“ I was like Jiis before!" said Hester, swept by a flood of 
remembrance. 

“ Yes, when you came home." 


236 


THE HEAD STATION. 


‘‘I know/^ 

Hester sighed heavily, and remained still again. The 
sounds outside increased. Mr. Eeay seemed giving last 
orders, and then a party rode away. 

They^re gone,^'’ said Mollie. 

“ Who:'^ Hester gazed bewilderedly. 

“ Every one: Mr. Ferguson, and Mr. Wyatt, and Gustavus 
Blaize; and the rest mustering. 

“ They wonH be back till the end of the week?^^ 

“ They wouldn^t go after cattle — where we were yester- 
day?^^ 

Hester ^s voice thrilled anxiously. Mollie laughed. 

Back of Little Comongin! Nobody would go there ex- 
cept after calves to nugget. 

The children had got out of their little beds, and were 
scampering about with bare feet on the boards. Water 
splashed into the zinc tubs in the bath-room; and Jinks 
was heard remonstrating with the half-caste girl who was 
the Olephanes^ nurse. Mollie placidly expostulated through 
the wooden partition. 

Hester lay still, vaguely wondering whether days or 
years had passed since she had heard the same sounds on 
the morning that they had started for their expedition. 
She had confused images of a black gulf into which she 
seemed to have fallen, and of the children chattering heart- 
lessly on its brink, and the world going on the same while 
she sunk out of sight. She had become numbed by the in- 
tensity of a resolve to which she had worked herself. 
Everything appeared dream-like. She shrunk from light 
and noise and the commonplace routine; and yet, in one 
sense, they were welcomed, as awakeners of sensibility. 

She observed Mollie^s restlessness. It was part of her 
dream. 

You want to go to the children? Don^’t mind me.'’^ 
set the door open, and I can see what they^re 
about/^ rejoined Mollie; “ I^m afraid of your going off 
shivering again,^^ and she admonished Jinks ‘‘ to be good 
because Aunt Hester was tired, and to come in on tiptoe 
and have her tapes and buttons fastened. Jinks was rea- 
sonable. Her big black eyes scarcely left her aunt^s death- 
like face. She had conjectures about the frightening effect 
of the Puyume, of whom Combo had told her: but she re- 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


237 


strained her curiosity. Barty^ however, showed fractious- 
ness, and required humoring. Grim, fantastic suggestions 
flitted through Hester's mind, and the homely prattle in- 
terwove itself strangely with the tragic forebodings which 
were haunting her. Under her pillow lay a letter to Durm 
ford which she could only have written upon the spur of 
revulsion. She knew that upon the morrow she might wish 
it recalled. That must be put beyond her power. It must 
be delivered. She must be saved from her own weakness. 
This was her predominating thought. In her need she in- 
stinctively turned to Mollie; and the children, the prosaic 
details, Jinks's rasping little tone, seemed to represent the 
life from which she would have broken away, and to which 
she must henceforth cling for salvation. 

‘‘Molhe!" she exclaimed, excitedly, “I've got some- 
thing to speak to you about — something you must do." 

“ In a. minute. Aunt Hester," put in Jinks, demurely; 
“ we are saying our prayers first." 

The little half -dressed creature, with naked feet turned 
up, knelt at Mollie' s knee. 

“ Please God bless papa and mamma. Oh, Barty, don't!" 

The pink toes presented an irresistible temptation to 
Barty, waiting his turn behind. 

“ Barty!" interjected Mrs. Clephane, with severity. 
“ Go on. Jinks." 

“ Please God bless — Barty, don't — please God wait one 
minute while I kick Barty." 

There was an irreverent outthrust on the part of Jinks, 
which ended ignominiously in a howl. Hester burst into 
hysterical laughter and fell to shivering again. The chil- 
dren were expelled, and their prayers put off till a more 
seasonable moment. By and by the station-bell clanged, 
and Hester besought her sister to go and dress and have 
breakfast. 

When Mrs. Clephane came back she was her decorous, 
matronly self, in blue gingham and an apron, and the chil- 
dren had gone forth, so that there was peace in that part of 
the house. Mollie put the room straight, and expended 
her sympathy in practical ministrations. There was some- 
thing soothing and reliable about the housewifely presence. 
Hester professed herself better, and a shade of color came 
into her corpse-like cheek after she had swallowed some 
tea and a morsel of toast. Every now and then she moved 


238 


THE HEAD STATION. 


her hand and nervously fingered the letter beneath her pil- 
low. She watched with grateful eyes the movements of her 
sisfcer, who seemed to strike her in a new light. 

At last she said with a note of wistfulness in her voice — 

“ You are very good, Molhe. I think you'd stand by me 
if I were in trouble. 

Mollie rais^ her violent eyes reproachfully. 

Why? What are you thinking of, Hetta? Of course 
I would. There are only the two of us — real sisters, you 
know?^^ 

‘‘ Yes. But youVe gone straight and Fve gone crooked. 
You are always solid and comforting, and I"m afraid I^m 
often discontented and tiresome,'^ said Hester, hugging 
self-reproach. ‘‘ I donT seem to be like any one else. 

‘‘ Well, no — ^you are not,^^ admitted Mollie, you are all 
ideas. But 1 canT tliink why you should fancy that I 
wouldnT stand by you. Next to Jack and the children, I 
care more for you than any one. I wish you would tell me 
if there V anything wrong, Hetta. ” 

Yes,^^ said Hester, there’s a great deal wrong.” 

She took out her letter, and held it with the address 
downward. 

“ Is that for Bill Stone?” asked Mollie, referring to the 
departure of the mail-bag. 

‘‘No! Mollie,” she said slowly, “I am very unhappy. 
I feel as though I couldn’t bear it by myself.” 

“Tell me,” said Mollie; “it will be better for you to 
have it out. ” 

“ I 7n'ust have it out,” said Hester desperately. “ Now 
that there’s an end of it I don’t care if you think me 
wicked. ” 

“ Wicked!” repeated Mollie, wonderingly; “ it is not the 
old thing?” 

Hester did not answer. 

“ Have you heard from that man?” asked Mollie, with 
animation. 

Still Heater was silent. 

“ You know, Hetta, it is foolish to worry,” continued 
her sister; “ I told you so before. Jack says it is quite im- 
possible that he can ever do anything to you.” 

“I am not afraid of that,” said Hester, in a hushed 
voice. 


THE HEAD STATION. 239 

“ Wiiafc is it then? Youh*e not~oh, Hester! You^re 
not wanting to be free?^^ 

‘‘I should think that most women in my position would 
wish for freedom/' said Hester, bitterly. 

Mollie's look had in it something like fear. “ It's so 
long ago," she said, as though reflecting aloud. If it had 
been Gretta — But you are so diflerent, you are older than 
lam." 

“ Past caring for happiness? I've had my chance, and 
it's wicked to wish for another. " 

‘‘ There's no one," said Mollie, in a shocked, bewildered 
tone. 

“ No one?" repeated Hester. “ Oh, if there were not!" 

‘‘ Hester!" cried Mollie, “ oh, Hester! If that is the 
happiness you care about — " 

“ I don't care for it. I only want to be good. Can't 
you see that I am fighting myself? I'm crushing it down." 

Eaising herself upon her elbow, Hester went on with 
gathering agitation — 

“I've had a shock that set me against everything, and 
made me hate myself. I want to get away from it. Mol- 
lie, you must give this letter. If I didn't know how it 
would hurt him I shouldn't mind so much. But I can't 
see him — I can never see him again." 

The bewilderment deepened in Mollie's eyes, and a blush 
crept slowly over her fair matronly face. 

. “ Oh, Hester!" she exclaimed once more. 

“ You think it very bad," said poor Hester, beginning 
to tremble as before. “ But," she flamed out, “because 
people are married and bound must they be stones — with- 
out feeling?" 

Mollie took the letter and read the direction. She gazed 
in horror at her sister. Her slow imagination at first barely 
grasped the situation. She could not realize that the 
tragedy had been' enacting under her own eyes^ and that 
she had been blind to it. 

Hester stretched out her hands with a piteous gesture. 

“ You see?" she said. 

“Yes," answered Mollie with a gasp; “now nothing 
would have made me believe it of you. " 

“ Mollie, don't be hard. It's you happy women who 
should never be hard. Think of me. I hadn't a child to 
love — I am all alone. " , 


240 


THE HEAD STATION. 


‘‘ cried Mollie. ‘‘ I know, I know I am sorry for 
you. The true womanliness in her came forth. She moved 
to the side of the bed and gathered Hester to her bosom, as 
though the elder woman had been a child. For a few mo- 
ments neither spoke. Then Mollie said, 

“ He must go away.^'’ 

“ This is to tell him that I can never see him again, 
whispered Hester. 

‘‘ How long ago is it?^^ asked Mollie. 

‘‘ Hot long since he told me,^^ answered Hester m the 
half whisper. “ But we began to love each other long be- 
fore — from the first. He didnT mean to tell me — but I — 
it was forced from him the time he meant to go away. 
Mollie, I canT bear to have any more deceiving. I feel as 
though I didnT care if every one knew. But it^’s going to 
be over, and for his sake k’d rather you kept it from Jack. 

‘‘ I will not tell Jack. Ho one shall know. It will only 
be between us two sisters. 

He wanted me to go away with him,^"’ Hester went on, 
brokenly. ‘‘ He has got some money from Mr. Raikes, 
and they’ve offered him a post in Melbourne.” 

“ Oh!” Mollie shuddered, and held her sister closer. 


“ I know — it is terrible. And the bad part of it — Mol- 
lie, I think I would have gone if something — I can’t tell 
you what — hadn’t turned my feelings and made me see the 
horror of it. But I love him so much that I am afraid. I 
can’t bear to see him suffer. It tears my heart. Oh, Mol- 
lie, it is so terrible to think that we only want to be 
together to be as happy as the angels.” 

“ Ho,” said Mollie. “ You wouldn’t be happy in that 
way. It’s all wrong.” 

As happy then as the devils!” cried Hester with the 

f host of a laugh, “ if their sin is to have been too human. 

Jut you’re right, Mollie, and there’s soinetliing stronger in 
me than the longing to be happy. It’s hard to reason 
about duty; and yet there it is — a dead wall there’s no use 
to knock against.” 


Mollie was silent for a minute or two. Her practical 
mind was revolving emergencies. Hester disengaged her- 
self from her sister’s embrace, and lay back on the pillow 
looking exhausted. 

‘‘I will give him the letter,” said Mrs. Clephane. ‘‘I 


THE HEAD STATION. 241 

will give it at once, and I will tell him that he must leave 
Doondi without waiting to see father or Jack. 

“ You wonH say cruel things to him, Mollie?’^ 

‘ ‘ It wouldnH be my way, dear — with any one so much 
cleverer than I am. I am very angry with him, but I am 
sorry too. One can ^t help feeling sorry. I^’ll try and make 
him feel that — and that he must go/^ 

‘‘ He will have to give a reason,^^ said Hester, weakly 
combatting the position, now that she had created it. 
“ They will all wonder. It will be hard for him. 

“It need not be,^"’ returned Mrs. Clephane, promptly. 
“ The boys are having holidays, and there was the mail last 
night — we came in too late for anything to be said. If he 
has been offered a good appointment— and Mr. Eaikes^s 
death — there^s reason enough. 

Mollie rose. Hester took back her letter, and gazed at 
the envelope through a mist of tears. To send the letter 
Was to seal her fate. She knew that he would not question 
her verdict. The yearning to see him once more was like 
physical pain, and its repression a fierce dagger- thrust. 
She wished now that she had written differently. Her fare- 
well was so cold — so definite. She had left no loop-hole for 
future possibilities. But what possibilities? The bare sug- 
gestion turned her sick with shame and self-dread. He 
would perhaps believe that she did not love him! Oh, no 
— that was impossible. Although the phrases might seem 
passionless, he must surely feel that throbs or anguish had 
forced them forth. 

“ I am going, said Mollie. “ Give me the letter. 
Hester surrendered it, and flung herself down with her 
face to the wall; 

At the door, Mollie turned back, pityingly, to lower the 
blind and smoothe the bedclothes over her sister^’s prostrate 
form. Sobs convulsed Hester. 

“ DonT cry,^^ said Mollie. “ Hetta, you mustn^’t cry. 
You know that you have me to love you — and the children. 
And youTl think about little Maggie — and if she were alive 
and you thought of her — you could not — 

Molhe^s tears fell too. Hester^s sobs did not cease; but 
she motioned her sister away. 

“ It^s best to get it over,^^ she said, brokenly. “ It^s 
like good-bye — to everything. ” 

Mollie went on her errand. 


24:2 


THE HEAD STATION. 


The time she remained absent might have been minutes or 
hours for all that Hester knew. 

Xo one came to the door. Mollie had said she was sleep- 
ing, She lay in a state of torpor, but she seemed to hear 
the beating of her heart above all other sounds; the scrap- 
ing of Maafu^s hoe beneath her window; the buzzing of a 
mason-fly on the pane; the distant lowing of cattle; the 
chatter of parrots in a gum-tree by the garden-fence — and 
beyond all and through all the knell of separation. 

By and by Mollie entered again, and stole to the side of 
the bed. Hester ^s miserable eyes looked from the white- 
ness of her face and of the pillow, but no words came. 

Mollie put a letter in her hand. 

“ This is his answer, she said. 

Hester^ s fingers closed convulsively upon the envelope, 
but she did not attempt to open it. Mollie waited, as if in 
expectation of her doing so. 

Not now,^^ murmured Hester. By and by.^^ 

‘‘ He is going, said Mollie. He will be in Leichardt^s 
Town to-morrow.^'’ 

‘‘ To-morrow?” rejDeated Hester, in blank misery. “ So 
soon? Impossible.” 

He will ride by moonlight, and be at the Wyeroo ter- 
minus at day-break. ^ ^ 

“ A¥hy so soon?” said Hester, faintly. 

‘‘ He said that since you desired it he would obey quickly. 
He told me to tell you that he could not leave before even- 
ing because he had some farewells to make.^^ 

•‘Ah!” said Hester, with a groan. “ I know what he 
means. He will say good-bye to the cave. ” 

“ The cave!” repeated Mollie, wonderingly. 

Hester was silent. 

“ Mollie,” she said, presently, with an ache in her voice, 
“ did he — how did he bear it?” 

“He was cut up,” returned Mollie, slowly, feeling her 
inadequacy to describe. “ I did not think men took things 
like that. I suppose,” she added, with her unconscious 
literalness, “ that it’s because he’s a poet.” 

“ He — ^broke down?” 

“ I gave him your letter to read before I said anything. 
He was up at the Quarters. Tor a minute or two it seemed 
as if some one had hit him a blow; he sat down and never 
spoke a word, but looked straight into the air. ” 


THE HEAD STATION. 


24:3 


‘‘ Then?'^ 

He asked me if you had heard from your husband. 
Have you, Hettar” 

Hester moved uneasily. 

‘‘ Hon^t question me about Lance, Mollie. It makes no 
difference — ^go on. 

“ He wanted to argue it all out with me — ^to justify sin 
— the tint of Monied’s cheeks deepened. He didn't seem 
to believe in the Bible — or anything. And then — I talked 
to him." 

“You talked to him?" 

“ I don't know what I said, Hetta; I couldn't tell you. 
But I just thought of Jack, and the children, and of the 
awfulness of your being cut off from us all, and from good 
■women. Oh, Hetta, think of it." 

“ Well! that is over." 

“But the dreadfulness! One's child, perhaps, having 
the right to reproach one. I said that to him." 

“ You were cruel. Why have made it harder?" 

“ He insisted upon seeing you. He would not believe 
that you did not wish it. " 

“I dare not," cried Hester, wildly; “I love him so. 
I—" 

The remembrance of that delirious lip-meeting, in which 
her very soul's strength seemed to have been drunk, swept 
over her. She turned away her face. 

“ It was then I spoke all that was in my heart," said 
Mollie. ‘ ^ I begged him to spare you. At last he consent- 
ed to go away this evening. He sat down to write. I 
could not bear to see him. I went out to the veranda. He 
brought the letter to me. Oh! Hetta, don't cry so." 

Hester was sitting up in bed, her hands before her face, 
and her loosened hair falling like a veil round her. She 
threw it back. 

“ Go now, Mollie; don't trouble about me any more. I 
want to be alone. " 

“ He made me promise," said Mollie, hesitatingly, “ that 
if anything should happen — if you should ever be free — I 
would write to him." 

“Oh! don't, don't," cried Hester, in sharp agony. 
“ Don't make me more wicked than I am — " 

She opened the envelope when Mollie had gone, gently 


244 


THE HEAD STATION. 


and tenderly, as though she were touching a relic of the 
dead. 

The letter was very short. 

I leave you, since this is the service you require of me. 
But remember always, in union or separation, 1 am entire- 
ly yours; and when you need me a word will recall me.'’^ 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

‘‘he is EGBERT WESTMORELAND.^^ 

The days dragged heavily. Durnford was gone, and 
Hester, languid and nerveless, kept much in her room. It 
was happy for her that the state of nervous prostration to 
which she had been reduced numbed her powers of thought 
and sensibility. Acute pain would be a later experience. 

The mustering-party remained absent during the whole 
of the week. Once or twice Sib came back for rations or 
on an errand of inspection, and reported that cattle and 
extra hands were being collected at the Selection and at 
Tieryboo, where Captam Clephane was active, and that the 
droving-party would stay but one night at Doondi before 
starting north. 

At length the afternoon came when the roar of beasts 
imprisoned in the stock-yard was like the sound of the sea, 
and the back verandas and space about the dairy and meat- 
store were filled with men and black boys — Braddick and 
Desmond filling ration-bags with flour, tea, and sugar, 
dividing figs of tobacco, and marshaling groceries; Sib and 
his contingent weighing salted meat, others splitting green 
hide, polishing bits, and puncliing holes in saddle-straps, 
while Mr. Reay and his son-in-law occupied themselves in 
the ofiice with the tallies of the cattle, the lists of brands, 
the drovers^ charges, and other serious preliminaries to an 
overlanding trip. 

In the midst of these preparations Bertram AVyatt and 
Ferguson rode up. They had come over from Gundalunda 
to bid the detachment good-speed. 

It was not till the sun had set, and the bushmen had re- 
freshed themselves with a swim in the creek, that Captain 
Clephane found leisure to open and consider a letter from 


THE HEAD STATION. 245 

Gustavus Blaize, which had arrived for him during his 
absence. 

He had settled himself comfortably on a lounge outside 
Jinks^s nursery, and, loosely attired in pyjamas, with a pipe 
in his mouth, was about to enjoy a half hour in the com- 
pany of Mollie and the children. 

‘‘ Pat made a capital hit in Braddick, Moll,^^ he was say- 
ing. “ He^s a first-rate chap — a real man, and sharp, too. 
I am thinking of going in with him for new country. I 
have always thought that I might do a good stroke of busi- 
ness by taking up blocks out west and selling them as un- 
. stocked runs. If I had any one on the spot with a good 
eye for grazing pastures — and reliable. Next to no ex- 
pense, you know — and clear profit. 

There^s the leasing from Government, Jack,^^ putin 
prudent Mollie, “ and the chance of not selling. And then 
we don^t know anything about Mr. Braddick. I am sure 
that it would be better to wait and see how he turns out on 
the trip before settling with him to take up ne\v runs. 

Oh, of course,'^ returned Clephane, a little testily, 
“ there’s no hurry. I ‘ cotton ’ to the man, as your father 
says, because he is a gentleman and of my own caliber. I 
dare say there’s something shady in his background, and 
one is bound to be careful. But a great many backgrounds 
out here are shady. No one supposes that a well-born 
Englishman comes down to droving for his own pleasure. 
I’m convinced, notwithstanding his seediness when he came 
here, that there’s nothing of the cad about that fellow. ” 
Jinks rushed up. 

“ Oh, father! tell Barty and me a story. Mother, I 
know how father’s stories come. You see they’re in the 
pipe, under the tobacco; and when he lights it the stories 
get too hot, and they go up the pipe into his mouth, and 
0ien he can say them.” 

Clephane laughed: That’s it. Jinks. But wait till 
I’ve read this letter. I’ll have smoked down to the story 
by that time.” 

‘ ‘ Then I’ll go to Mr. Braddick and" Cousin Isabel by the 
fig-tree,” said Jinks, “ until you are ready. Mr. Braddick 
does not say funny words like Pat, but he gives us a great 
deal of ’formation about butterflies, which is very interest- 
ing. ” 

Jinks ran off. Captain Clephane shook out the four 


24:6 


THE HEAD STATION. 


sheets of thin paper in Mr. Blaize's elaborate handwriting, 
‘‘ Good Lord! what the deuce does Old Gold want to write 
to me about Braddick for?^^ he exclaimed. 

He read the letter, in a rush first, uttering a few forcible 
ejaculations, and knitting his brows in a perplexed man- 
ner. Then he turned back to the beginning and read it 
again — this time with fuller comments: 

Cheek! Writes to me as IsabeBs guardian! Thinks 
he perceives signs of an incipient attachment! The deuce 
he does! Feels it his duty to apprise me of his discovery. 
The Westmorelands of Glen Wold! By George, there^’s 
something in it! That’s how he came to know all about 
Milner’s' painting! I wish I had a head for family ro- 
mances! There was a nephew! I’ll be shot if I didn’t 
hear some tradition about him! I’ll write and ask Louisa! 
Ho; what’s the good of stirring up mud to bespatter a poor 
devil who owns himself sick and fain a saint would be? 
That’s the long and short of it! As for Isabel, the idea is 
monstrous! And she is sitting under the fig-tree with him! 
Go and fetch her out, Mo^l. ” 

Mollie had been listening in bewilderment. 

“ What is it all about. Jack? You don’t mean that 
Isabel is in love with Mr. Braddick? Oh!” she sighed, 
under the consciousness of a heavy burden, “ all the trouble 
in the world comes through people falling in love with each 
other. ” 

“Why, Moll,” exclaimed Olephane, “you are develop- 
ing romantic tendencies. What is the tragedy? I believe 
that Durnford proposed to Gretta upon the strength of 
Eaikes’s legacy, and that you are in the swim. Was that 
why he scuttled away out of the back door?’ ’ 

“ No — ^no. But Isabel — Jack, now you put it into my 
head, they’ve been a great deal together.” 

“ According to Jinks they’re together now under the fig- 
tree. Swoop down like a destroying angel upon their 
paradise. ” 

“ Jack, you be serious. Tell me what is in the 
letter. ” 

Olephane sat erect and took his pipe out of his mouth. 

‘ ‘ Eight you are, Moll. It is not a laughing matter, 
though I don’t feel concerned on Isabel’s account. Trust 
Louisa Hetherington for imbuing her with all the proper 
notions about settlements, position, and matrimony in gen- 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


347 


eral. She is sorry for Braddick — finds him pleasant to talk 
to. But the idea of regarding seriously a man who hasn^t 
two coats to his back, or two sovereigns to jingle! Skew’d 
as soon think of Maafu as a lover. That^s not the point. 
This letter contains an accusation against Braddick. 

‘‘ An accusation: repeated Mollie. 

“ A history. Briefly this. Jealousy has stirred Gus- 
tavus^s bile. He is a man who keeps diaries and remembers 
facts and faces. It seems that Braddick’ s face always 
struck him as familiar, though he could not remember 
where he had seen it. The night we camped out on Little 
Comongin he and I got talking about a painting of Milner’s 
which had been bought by a certain Colonel Westmoreland, 
of Glen Wold, and which Braddick had evidently studied 
across a dining-table. That was natural, since he turns 
out to be Colonel Westmoreland’s nephew.” 

“ Do you believe it. Jack?” 

‘‘ I think it is more than probable. Gustavus was stay- 
ing in the neighborhood of Glen Wold, went over the place, 
saw the picture in question, and some family portraits be- 
sides — one in particular, by Sir Thomas Lawrence, of 
Colonel Westmoreland’s father, whom he declares our 
drover exactly resembles. A curious notion, that of identi- 
fying a man by his grandfather’s portrait. ” 

I don’t think it’s possible,” said Mollie. 

‘‘‘ Far-fetched, I admit. But there was a painting of 
young Westmoreland, the nephew, who Gustavus solemnly 
asserts is Braddick the drover.” 

“ And what if it is true?” 

‘‘ Ah, now for the family romance, Moll! Old Gustavus 
referred to his diaries.” Clephane glanced at the letter. 
“ This is what he says: ‘ I always jot down my experiences 
and impressions. I had been struck by the two portraits, 
and by the fact, which I had heard incidentally stated, that 
at the death of the present owner Glen Wold would no longer 
belong to a Westmoreland. I thought it sad that so flue a 
place should pass out of the direct line, and made inquiries 
of my friend and host as to the fate of the nephew. The 
story was a painful one, but was well known in the neigh- 
borhood. Colonel Westmoreland and his wife were child- 
less, and he had brought up his nephew— an orphan, and 
penniless— as his heir. Young Eobert Westmoreland was 
put into a cavalry regiment; he was handsome, charming, 


248 


THE HEAD STATION. 


and extravagant. The uncle and nephew were, however, on 
excellent terms till the latter announced his engagement to 
a young lady living in the house as Mrs. Westmoreland^s 
companion. This young lady is now Colonel Westmore- 
land '’s second wife. For reasons which may be inferred, 
the relations between the two men became somewhat 
strained; and debts were not paid so readily. Finding 
himself in difficulties, Kobert Westmoreland forged his 
under’s name on a check for a considerable sum. The 
affair exploded and became public. Colonel Westmoreland 
had actually instituted legal proceedings, but was induced 
to stay them by the entreaties of the young lady, whom, 
some time later, he married. Young Westmoreland — 
ruined, branded, and disinherited — left England for Aus- 
tralia. Here he is known as the drover Braddick. This I 
can prove by the fact, which I have ascertained within the 
last day or two, that his land-order was taken out in the 
name of Westmoreland.^ 

paused. Mollie^s face was full of pain and 

•e you going to do, Jack?^^ she asked. 

Clephane got up and paced the veranda in a perturbed 
manner. 

‘‘ Here^s Isabel, he said presently. “ ITl see what 
light she has to throw upon the subject. 

" “Oh, Jack I'’ ^exclaimed Mollie, and retreated within 
doors. She had a womaffis intuition that this appeal to 
Isabel was the kindling of a fuse. 

The young girl approached through the vines leading 
Jinks by the hand. Something in her air struck Clephane. 
She looked sad, but there was a dreamy consciousness in 
her face which disquieted him. Acting on impulse he went 
to the edge of the veranda, the letter in his hand. “ Come 
here, Isabel — Mollie was just going after you. Off with 
you. Jinks. IF s close upon dressing- time. I have no story 
for you this evening. 

Jinks wanted to argue the point, but was peremptorily 
bidden to depart. Isabel stepped on to the veranda; and 
leaning against the wooden pilaster, with her face turned 
sideways, nervously twisted a tendril of the rinka sporum 
round her fingers. 

“ What is it. Uncle Jack?^^ she asked. 

Clephane sat down again in the squatter^s chair and re- 


Clephane 
perplexity. 
What a 


THE HEAD STATION. 249 

lighted his pipe. “ I suppose, my dear, that you have no 
intention of settling for life in Australia? 

Isabel blushed pink, and laughed faintly- “ Uncle 
Jack! No; you won^t be burdened with me beyond the 
year’s end.' 

‘‘ It was Mr. Gustavus Blaize, I believe, who did you the 
honor of making the suggestion. Tell me, has Mr. Brad- 
dick any views on the subject?” 

The color deepened in Isabel’s cheek. Uncle Jack,” 
she said, with no little dignity, “ I don’t like jokes which 
are in bad taste. ” 

Nor I. This one seems to me in particularly bad taste. 
Bead for yourself. ” And he handed her Mr. Blaize’ s letter. 

He watched her very closely as she perused it. Her head 
was for a long time bent over the paper, and he saw that 
she turned very pale. She made no comment, however, 
and he could not have divined by her face, when she raised 
it, how deeply she was moved. It was very quiet, and there 
was a fixed look about the lips and eyes. She let her hands 
fall, with the letter between them. 

‘‘ Well?” he asked. 

She did not answer for a moment, then said, brokenly, 
and with an almost piteous accent: “Well! Uncle Jack — 
I — I don’t know.” 

“You mean that Braddick hasn’t confided his history to 
you?” 

“ No — ” She paused, overwhelmed by the remembrance 
of what he had said to her on the camping-out. This, then, 
was the accusation which he had warned her he could not 
deny. Braddick was not his name. He had said so. He 
had hinted at disgrace. And yet he had almost asked her 
for her faith. She would give it royally. 

“ He has not tried to enlist your sympathy?” 

She shook her head. Had he not passionately implored 
her not to glorify him in her imagination? 

“I won’t speak to you of Mr. Blaize’s insinuations,” 
continued Clephane. “ The idea is preposterous — insult- 
ing. It isjihe creation of a jealous fool.” 

Isabel’s breath came more quickly, but she disdained to 
reply. 

“ This letter is a mean melodramatic attempt at revenge, 
worthy of Gustavus Blaize. ” 


250 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 

‘‘ Gretta prepared me for it/' said Isabel, masking her 
agitation. 

“ But there may be truth in the charge. You should 
know something of it. Surely you have heard Louisa speak 
of the Westmorelands?" 

“ I have heard her speak of the Westmorelands/' Isabel 
repeated, slowly. 

“ They’ve stayed at Heatherleigh?" asked Clephane. 

“ Once. It was a long time ago. I was in the school- 
room. " 

Clephane took out his pipe and expelled a volume of 
smdke. “Is it true that Colonel AVestmoreland married 
his late wife's companion?" 

“ I have heard so much. Uncle Jack." 

“And the nephew — he is a fact, I suppose? Gustavus 
gives no dates. Let me see!" He held out his hand for 
the letter, but Isabel's fingers closed more tightly round it. 

“ Have you ever heard of him, Isabel?" 

There was silence for a minute or two. Isabel's eyes 
were fixed outward. At last she spoke: 

“ I believe Colonel Westmoreland had a nephew, who 
was disinherited. But I never knew for what reason. I 
remember, now, something being said — Louisa speaking of 
him — but it is so long ago; and I had no interest in the 
people — " 

There was another silence. Isabel's thoughts were work- 
ing painfully backward through a labyrinth of confused 
memories. Lights broke une'xpectedly, and seemed to 
bring fragments of the past into relief. Suddenly she ex- 
claimed, 

“ Uncle Jack, what are you going to do?" 

“ The question is," said Clephane, “ whether I destroy 
this precious epistle, and let Braddick go in peace with the 
cattle to-morrow, or whether — I show it to my father-in- 
law and to Braddick, and insist upon an explanation." 

Isabel's eyes flashed. Without a word she tore the sheets 
in two, then across again till only small pieces remained. 
The action pleased Clephane. It showed that she was a 
girl of spirit, and also seemed to indicate that she resented 
Mr. Blaize's imputations upon her attitude toward Brad- 
dick. 

“There!" she exclaimed, when she had scattered the 
scraps to the winds. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


251 


“ You need not have done that/" he returned. Gus- 
tavus Blaize will get the contempt that he deserves; and 
you don"t suppose that I would have mixed your name up 
in the matter."’ 

She burst forth agitatedly, How? You won’t stab in 
the dark. Let Mr. Blaize accuse him face to face if he 
chooses. He won’t dare. A.s for me — it is nothing. If 
he' be young Westmoreland, and for some reason of his own 
has changed his name, that’s no concern of ours. We are 
not his judges.” 

“ One has usually a weakness in favor of employing 
honest men,” said Clephane, dryly. 

‘‘Honest! He is honest: more — he is honorable. You 
can’t look in his face and not see that he wouldn’t do a bad 
or mean action to save his life. His life!” repeated 
Isabel, “ he doesn’t care for it. It hasn’t been made 
pleasant to him. He was glad of this prospect of starting 
afresh. And to be branded at the outset — with a sus- 
picion!” 

“ He has the option of denying the charge. ” 

“Oh!” she cried with intensifying anxiety, “ if he is 
young Westmoreland, and could have denied it, would he 
be here now? There is some good reason — I am certain of 
it. , One has intuition about people. I feel that he is good. 
The past should not be allowed to poison the present. 
True dr false — it is no matter to me. I don’t want to 
know. He may be keeping silence for the sake of others. ” 

Her vehemence and the tremor in her voice startled and 
alarmed Clephane. He laughed, but in a troubled manner. 
“ These romantic notions don’t wash in real life,” he said. 

Isabel raised her arms, which had hung down in front of 
her, and loosened her clasped hands with an impetuous and 
significant gesture, as though she were sweeping away all 
doubts and pettishnesses. 

“ It is no matter,” she said again. “ And if romantic 
notions make us think more kindly of the unfortunate ” — 
she faltered, and her language came forth brokenly, “ and 
when they make no real difference to ourselves — in onr own 
feelings — and might bring hope and comfort to one who 
had suffered- — they shouldn’t be discouraged.” Isabel 
halted, afraid of her gathering emotion; but it found vent 
in scorn: “Do you think he can not be trusted? 7 will 
answer ihat he does not steal your money or your cattle.” 


252 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


“ Isabel exclaimed Clephane, in an accent of amazed 
inquiry. 

She turned again: 

“ Uncle Jack, I know what you are thinking. That does 
not matter either. I am not ashamed to tell you the truth 
— that I am sorry for Mr. Braddick and that I believe in 
him. I want him to go away with the cattle to-morrow, 
and to have a chance of doing well on the northern station 
— of mending his life. I doii'^t suppose that I shall ever see 
him again. You^ll be doing right if you let him go as 
though you guessed nothing. Ask Moliie. She is a kind 
true woman. I know that she will say the same. Isabel 
ended in something like a sob. She hurriedly went within. 
Moliie was sitting in the bedroom near the window. She 
had heard all the conversation. Isabel halted,, and cast a 
pleading glance at her aunt. ‘‘ Oh, Moliie!'^ she said, 
“ you know it would be hard if a blight were cast upon him 
now.""^ 

Sympathy was welling up in Moliie Clephane^s heart. 
Of late days her perception had been quickened. She looked 
at Isabel with eyes at once reproachful and astonished, and 
her first anxious thought found utterance: 

“He must go to-morrow; 'and Gustavus Blaize shall 
never come here again. 

She went forward, and would have kissed Isabel, but the 
young girl broke away with a smothered cry. She could 
not bear yet that the raw wound should be touched. 

Moliie confided her fears to her husband, who tried to be 
incredulous, but was in reality horrified. A somewhat dis- 
ingenuous course was resolved upon. The subject should 
be for the present ignored, and explanations calculated to 
fire emotion avoided. Braddick was to be sent off with the 
cattle; but at the end of the droving-trip the connection 
between him and Doondi should be severed. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

“where the pelicah builds her nest.^^ 

A STRATHED attempt at hilarity was apparent that even- 
ing among the party at the head-station. 

There was no dinner served at the Bachelors^ Quarters. 
Braddick, Desmond, and the two extra drovers— shy, lean 


THE HEAD STATION. 


253 


youths, who had been picked up near Tieryboo — were bid- 
den to the big house. A sort of festival was organized, 
speeches made, and prosperity drank to the new venture. 
‘No one, however, seemed at ease. The elfort to be natural 
was obvious. Ferguson and Wyatt exerted themselves after 
their different fashions to hide an under-current of feeling, 
of which each was too well aware, but they were not quite 
successful. Clephane, anxious to appear unconcerned, 
found himself addressing frequent remarks to Braddick and 
watching for his replies with the keenness of an inquisitor. 
Braddick was grave and preoccupied; and Isabel kept her 
eyes averted from his direction, and talked nervously to 
Sib. It was Hester’s first public appearance since her ill- 
ness. The terrible blank she found could only be likened 
to the gap left by death. The agony was so intense that it 
numbed her to endurance. Her speech and actions were 
automatic; only when Hurnford^s abrupt departure came 
under discussion her face became so pallid that Mollie 
started in alarm, fearing she would faint. 

It was a relief when Pat Desmond, having pledged the 
ladies at parting, began to recount his tender experiences 
on board the ‘‘ Orient steamer, which had brought him 
to Australia. “ Sure, and when I left it I was engaged to 
six young ladies. Miss Gretta, and there was one I loved in- 
tensely. But she had a husband and I hadnT a cent, and 
so we settled to be married in heaven, supposing the hus- 
band doesnT get to the gate first and claim her before I 
have my chance. 

Jinks protested against this statement, and amid some 
lively romping was borne out of the dining-room on Pat^s 
shoulders and deposited on the roof of a vine-trellis. 

Upon any other evening this might have been the signal 
for an adjournment to the garden, but to-night there was 
not the usual tendency to pair in couples; and when Mr. 
Blaize made the original observation that it was pleasant 
to be out-of-doors upon a hot night no one took any notice 
of it, except Aunt Judith, who tucked him up in a Shetland 
shawl and cradled him in the hammock. 

Conversation was desultory. They talked of the west, 
and of the long droughts, ‘and one of the new drovers 
timidly told how water might sometimes be found in hollow 
trees, and how men^s lives had been saved by the liquid 
which oozed out of a spotted gum sapling. Future pros- 


254 


THE HEAD STATION. 


pects were discussed. There was suppressed excitement in 
the air. The tenor of life seemed about to change. Mr. 
Keay talked impartially of the health of the traveling cattle 
and of his impending election. In three weeks^ time the 
move was to be made to Leichardt’s Town, and Gretta and 
Isabel — for it had been settled that the two were to be 
companions in pleasure — would have embarked upon the 
gayeties of the parliamentary session. When Wyatt an- 
nounced that he would visit Leichardt’s Town shortly, and 
glanced at Gretta as he spoke, the girks nerves tingled, and 
her heart rose and sunk. Life had become dramatic to 
Gretta. This was the ordeal by which Bertram's sincerity 
must be tested. She prefigured visions of Miss Baldock 
reigning at Government House. Poor Gretta '’s provincial 
imagination was fired. A keen foreboding pierced her, and 
she felt like a gamester whose future is staked upon the 
fall of a die. 

But she had an inborn pride which steeled her, and made 
her manner almost cold. She determined not to yield to 
his mute entreaties for a tete-a-tHe. She shrunk fr-om the 
imputation of any want of dignitv, and her former 
coquetries seemed odious to her. She fought against his in- 
fluence, which she felt to be magnetic; and, when it grew 
hard to resist the temptation to saunter out with him into 
the starlit garden, she deliberately ^at down to the piano 
and called upon Isabel and the gentlemen to join in a 
part-song. 

Isabel refused. She was tired, she said — she had no voice. 
There was some flutter and movement in the circle, and a 
group formed round the piano. The music was loud and 
uninteresting. IsabePs e3"es met those of Braddick. He 
was standing in the window-frame, with his gaze bent 
earnestly upon her. It seemed to Isabel full of unuttera- 
ble sadness. A feeling of restlessness came over her. They 
moved toward each other. He said, in a low voice: 

Will you grant a last request, and come out into the 
garden with me for a little while? I may never again have 
the chance of talking to you. 

‘‘Yes,^^ she answered, simply; and they went out to- 
gether. 

He took up a woolen wrap of Mrs. Blaize’s which lay on 
the hammock and placed it on her shoulders. The act of 
solicitude, the manner in which he held out liis hand as she 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


255 


descended the log-steps, even the commonplaces he uttered 
as they walked down the gravel-path toward the lagoon — 
all were touched by the mystery and emotion of the hour, 
and remained always in her memory. 

‘‘It is pleasanter listening to the music out here,^^ he 
said. 

They were silent. Gretta was singing now — a bush-song, 
set to a plaintive air, with halting rhyme and unpoetical 
words, which seemed, howevei', appropriate to the occa- 
sion : 

“ The horses were ready, the rails were down, 

But the riders lingered still; 

One had a parting word to say, 

And one his pipe to fill. 

Then they mounted — one with a granted prayer, 

And one Avith grief unguessed. 

‘ We are going,’ they said, as they rode away, 

‘ Where the pelican builds her nest.’ 

“ They had told us of pastures wide and green. 

To be sought past the sunset’s glow; 

Of rifts ill the range by opals lit, 

And gold ’neath the river’s flow. 

And thirst and hunger were banished words 
When they spoke of that unknown west. 

No di'ought they thought of, no flood they feared. 
Where the pelican builds her nest.” 

“ ‘Where the pelican builds her nest,^ repeated Braddick, 
softly, with the little laugh — half sad, half sarcastic — which 
had grown so dear to Isabel. “The golden sands, the 
wide green pastures, the opal mines! Ah, well! If I found 
them all they wouldnT do me much good!^^ 

“ You would become rich; and then you would begin 
afresh, and you would be happier,^' said Isabel, in a low 
tone. 

“ Money wouldnT bring happiness if everything else were 
wanting, he answered, drearily. ‘ ‘ My life has been an 
utter failure; and the mistakes can’t be remedied now.” 

They walked on for a minute, and presently came to the 
fig-tree beneath which they had been talking that afternoon; 
only then they had not been alone. 

“ Let Hs, sit down,” said Braddick. 

They did so. The lagoon was like a mirror at their feet. 
There was no moon to make shadows, and the stars seemed 
to shine deep below the water’s surface. Everything was 


256 


THE HEAD STATION'. 


very still. In the silence and beauty of the night the minds 
of Brad dick and Isabel communed wordlessly. Both were 
thinking that they might never be alone so again. Over 
both there swept a feeling of great nearness, which was 
strange and overwhelming, and in no sense physical. He 
heaved a deep sigh. 

Presently she said, as simply as a child, You are sorr}" 
that you are going away?^^ 

“ he replied, I^m not sorry. It will be a relief. 
But, just at the time, it feels liard.^^ 

Their eyes met. He stretched out his hand impulsively, 
then drew it back. 

‘‘ Oh, if I knew which would be the most right he ex- 
claimed. 

She started forward, and turned her head away. To 
keep silence seemed impossible. 

I think that it is always right to be open and true,^^ 
she said, in a hushed manner. 

He did not speak. Suddenly she felt his hand laid upon 
hers as it rested loosely upon her knee. The touch thrilled 
her through and through. She placed her other hand on 
his; and thus they sat like children who are parting. At 
last he said: 

“ You have been to me like a star shining in dark night. 
I may never see you again; but you will always be the same 
to me. You remember I said that you had given me back 
my ideal. 

“ You lost it — once?^^ • 

‘‘ Yes,^^ he answered; ‘‘I once believed in a woman, I 
trusted and loved her with my whole heart and soul; and 
she deceived me!^^ 

A spasm — half joy, half dread — shook Isabel. ^^Ahl^^ 
She gave a little gasp. 

After a moment she added: And then?^^ 

‘‘ My love for her died as suddenly as if it had been 
strangled; and I believed no more in women till I met 
you."" 

“ Ah!"" she said again. There was a long silence full of 
meaning. He still held her hand. He did not speak or 
stir. He was watching her face. A light — dim, uncer- 
tain, yet still palely illumining a mystery — ^liad broken on 
her. Her instinct, quickened by love, had grasped a pos- 
sible clew. To reason upon it was out of the question. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


257 


^0 theory was in harmony with worldly facts. Yet the 
illogical conviction remained. If he had done evil — if he 
had brought disgrace upon himself and his family — it was 
for the sake, of a woman who had betrayed him, but to 
whom he was loyal. 

Oh, I am glad!^’ she cried involuntarily. 

At the same moment she gently took away her hand, 
and he drew a little apart from her. 

Look at me,^^ ijhe said. She obeyed. The two souls 
met. ‘‘ I love yoa/^ he went on deliberately. “ No, not 
one word. I say it because we are hopelessly divided. I 
should tell if I were dying. I should feel that you had the 
right to know it then. It could make no difference, and it 
might be a satisfaction — to us both. 

“I have the right — to know it now,^-’ she answered 
slowly. 

Because,^'’ he added, ‘‘ the gulf between us is so im- 
passable that it is Like death. 

A tremor passed over Isabel. She rose from the bench, 
and stretched out her hands, though as she did so she re- 
treated from him. 

Why is it impassable, she cried, “ if I believe in you? 
And I do — I would wait if — if you bade me. 

He got up too, and took her hands. ‘‘ Dear,’^ he said, 
solemnly, I will ask you nothing. ITl not even ask you 
to believe in me. I am a dishonored man. I am living 
under an assumed name. I am accused of a crime. I have 
acknowledged myself guilty.-’^ 

I know of what you are accused," she exclaimed; 

and I believe in you still. 

You know it? Then Mr. Blaize has brought his charge 
quickly. " 

“You are Eobert Westmoreland; and they say that you 
forged your uncle ^s name. Tell me that you did not do 
it." 

“ I can not. I can tell you nothing, except this. I afu 
Eobert Westmoreland. Think the worst of me. I wish 
it." 

“ You wish me to believe you guilty?" 

“Yes. I am guilty in the matter." 

“ Even if it were true — and not even your own words 
will convince^ me " — she said, her voice thrilling with 
emotion, “it would make no difference tome. It would 


258 


THE HEAD STATION. 


not change you from what you are. That^s all I care 
about. A woman has intuitions about such things. She 
knows when a man is to be trusted; and I^d trust you with 
more than my life. 

That is true/^ he said heavily. It would be more 
than your life.'^^ 

He gazed at her with a kind of hungry yearning. ‘‘ Ho 
you know that years would have to pass first — that you^d 
have to endure poverty^ disgrace^ alienation from all who 
love you?^^ 

‘‘ I have a little money/^ she faltered. It isn’t much, 
but it would keep me from being a burden. And I haven T 
many to love me. ' There’s only my half-sister, who doesn’t 
care much — 

A groan burst from him. ‘‘ I’m guilty of the basest act 
in having stayed here when I knew what I felt for you. 
But I could as soon have thought that an angel would stoop 
from heaven.” He raised her hands with a passionate 
gesture, and kissed them thrice; then gently relinquished 
them. “ Good-bye!” he said, huskily. “ You are a noble 
woman. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever 
known — beautiful in body, and heart, and soul. But I 
can’t accept what you offer me. I’m not bad enough for 
that. Good-bye!” 

Almost before she had guessed his intention he turned 
abruptly and left her. He did not go back to the house, 
but disappeared among the vines which sloped down to the 
lagoon ; and presently she heard the gate which led into the 
paddock click behind him. 

She cast herself upon the bench, and sat for a long time 
tearless and motionless. It was as if her heart had dried 
up, and she could not weep. By and by a step sounded 
on the pathway, and Sib asked: “ Isabel, are you here?” 

‘‘ Yes, Sib,” she answered, mechanically. 

“ Gretta sent me to look for you. They are dancing, 
and they want you.” 

“ I don’t think that I can dance to-night,” she said. 

He came in front of her. Her white face startled him. 
‘‘ Are you really so pale, or is it the starlight? Don’t you 
feel well?” 

She rose bfavely. “ Yes, I’m quite well. Let us go in. ” 

“ Not if you’d rather stay here. I thought Braddick 
was with you. ” 


THE HEAD STATION. 


259 


“ No; he has gone away/^ she rejoined, quietly. 

They walked toward the house iu silence. Pat Desmond 
had struck up a waltz. Gretta was whirling round in 
Wyatt^s arms, and Mollie was dancing with her husband. 
The ghastly incongruity of the scene with her own feelings 
afflicted Isabel to hysterical laughter. 

‘‘ We’ll go and dance. Sib. Come.” 

The youth put liis arm round her, and they took one or 
two turns. Suddenly she fancied that Braddick’s eyes 
looked at her from one of the windows and vanished. 
‘‘ Stop,” she cried, faintly; and they went into the veranda. 
Sib’s happiness had been brief. That waltz had been to 
him the realization of romantic dreams in which his own 
being and that of Isabel had pulsed in harmonious accord. 
He was full of tender anxiety. 

“ Isabel, won’t you tell me what is the matter?” 

‘‘No, Sib; I can’t. It’s nothing. And you are always 
so kind to me that you won’t tease me with questions.” 

“ I’ll try not to do anything you dislike,” replied the 
young man, with fervor. “ You — you make me feel that 
if there was a city to be stormed, or a big thing to be done, 
I could do it for your sake. Isabel, you haven’t forgotten 
your promise to me?” 

“ What promise. Sib?” she asked, vaguely. 

“You’ve forgotten already!” he exclaimed, reproach- 
fully. “You promised that you’d let me be a brother to 
you if you ever needed one, and that if there was anything 
you wanted done you’d ask me. ” 

“ And so I will. Sib,” said Isabel, a little wildly. 
“ And, if all the troubles on the face of the earth befall me. 
I’ll come to you to help me out of them. ” 


CHAPTER XL. 

A PKEMATURE EMBRACE. 

This was the first time Gretta had ever waltzed with 
Wyatt. Both had in imagination anticipated the experi- 
ence. Neither was disappointed. He, as might have been 
expected, could danc^uwell. She, passionately fond of the 
exercise, glided with natural grace; and he might almost 
have been piloting a bird so light was she and so free of 
movement. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


200 

Pat-’s strains were inspiriting; and the intoxication wrought 
in them both. 

When the music ceased he had his wish and led her into 
the garden. 

They paused under the orange-trees, and Gretta 23oised 
herself on the hammock, one foot touching the ground, 
while, with an arm upraised, she steadied herself by a little 
branch at which she caught. The attitude was bewitching; 
it displayed to advantage the rounded outhnes of her girlish 
figure. A beam of light from the deserted dining-room 
fell upon her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes 
looked bright and soft. He gazed at her in silent admira- 
tion. 

‘‘ You make my probation difiScult,^^ he said. 

‘‘ When are you going down to Leichardt^s Town?^’’ she 
returned, quickly. 

“In a day or two — unless you bid me remain. Only 
say ‘ stay ^ and business may take care of itself."’^ 

“ It is business then?^^ 

“ Yes; an unexpected difficulty with lawyers about a draft 
upon an English bank, which should clear off the mortgage 
on Gundalunda.'’^ 

“ How rich you and Mr. Ferguson will be now! It must 
seem quite odd and un-Australian not to say, ‘ When we 
have cleared off the bank. ^ That is a phrase / hear often 
enough. 

“ Yes,^^ he rejoined, lightly, “ I feel rather rich. I am 
grateful to good seasons. Now I am in a position to make 
settlements, which I was not two years ago. But about 
Leichardt^s Town. My journey could be put off for an- 
other three weeks, when you would be there. 

His allusion had jarred upon her. “ Oh,^’ she exclaimed, 
“ you dread your meeting with Miss Baldock. You are 
feeling your weakness. 

“ I admit it, if it be weakness to shrink from the ghost 
of a past pain, while I am still unfortifled by the certainty 
of a present happiness. ” 

“ What difference could that make?^^ she said, impetu- 
ously, with a quiver in her voice. “ Oh, I understand you 
— and I think that I despise you. 

“ That is a hard word,^^ he replied, gravely. 

“ It is true. But I despise myself more. I, who all my 
life have been first with every one — not to be sure whether 


THE HEAD STATION. 


261 


I am a toy/^ She rose, suddenly realizing that she had be- 
trayed herself, and turned upon him with a gesture of pas- 
sionate impatience. I can^t bear myself. You make me 

say things which humiliate me. " 

He came closer to her. 

“ Is there any humiliation in love? Why will you steel 
yourself so against me? Why will you not allow your heart 
free play? You call me weak! You think that I am not 
to be trusted! You see that I am a little afraid of the old 
memories which the sight of Hermione Baldock may 
awaken! Well! Should I be more worthy of you if I were 
heartless, soulless, beyond the reach of associations? I 
have never concealed from you that I once loved Miss Bal- 
dock. Don^t you know that when a limb has been cut off 
the ache may be felt for a long time afterward? So with 
my love for her. It is dead; but there remains a ghost 
which you can exorcise. 

He paused. Gretta kept her face averted. 

“You condemn me to three months of uncertainty,^' 
he went on, “ for the sake of a scruple of pride — for you 
love me, Gretta." 

He had taken her hand. She did not withdraw it. 

“ If you are so certain of that," she said, falteringly, 
“ why should you mind waiting till I am ready to own it?" 

“ It's because I'm not certain that I fear delay — because 
I know that if in Miss Baldock's presence you saw on my 
face a sign of emotion you would cast me off mercilessly." 

“Well?" she said, with a trace of her mocking manner. 

He laughed. 

“ I don't like to be put on my good behavior. The posi- 
tion affronts me. Trust me loyally and I will be loyal to 
you. Dearest," and his voice sounded wooingly in her ear, 
“ you must believe that I love you. Let me speak to your 
father to-morrow. " 

Gretta looked up at him for an instant with eyes that 
were welling. His appeal thrilled her. He grew bold as 
he held her hand, and, putting his arm round her, drew 
her close and kissed her on the lips. She yielded herself to 
the wild delight of the moment and rested unresistingly in 
his embrace. It was the first time in her life that the lips 
of a lover had touched hers. Notwithstanding her coquetry, 
her unoonventionality, her keen desire for conquest, she h^ 
always kept her admirers at her feet, as it were, and had 


262 


THE HEAD STATION. 


maintained a certain maidenly reserve, which had been to 
her beauty like the delicate bloom upon a flower, and upon 
which she had unconsciously prided herself. 

Suddenly she disengaged herself from him, and stood 
panting and indignant. 

‘‘You should not have done that. I gave you no right. 
If you had respected me^ — you would have waited — 

“ Oh, how mistaken you are!^^ he exclaimed sorrowfully; 
“ I thought your eyes told me that you cared for me a lit- 
tle. Will you not relent now, and say that you will be my 
wife?^^ 

“ You are wrong,^^ she said, trembling in her agitation; 
“ leave me, if you insist upon an answer now. I can not 
be engaged to you. I am not sure of you — of myself. We 
will meet in Leichardt^s Town. Remember, that there we 
are to be absolutely free. You can look upon this as — as 
merely a bush flirtation, not to be taken seriously — till we 
have made up our minds. 

“ Till you have made up yours, he said. 

“ It is possible, though my experience is less wide than 
yours, that I too may be within reach of associations,^^ re- 
plied Gretta, in her perversity lashing him. 

“ I see,’^ he replied, coldly, “ I did you injustice. You 
are less unsophisticated than I imagined. Among so many 
suitors it must naturally be difficult to choose. ’ ^ 

Gretta was silent. 

“I must ask your forgiveness,^^ he went on; “I was 
carried away — by my feeling for you — by your beauty. 

“ Oh, say nothing more,^' exclaimed Gretta, her tone 
changing; “ let it be forgotten.^' 

He offered her his arm. She took it, and they went back 
to the house. The dancing had come to an end, and the 
gentlemen were singing comic songs. He gravely said : 

“ I await your pleasure, and, bowing ceremoniously, 
left her. 

Gretta stood alone for a few moments in a corner of the 
veranda, trying to collect herself. The tears started to her 
eyes. Impulse and reason were at war within her. She 
felt dazed, yet not incapable of analyzing her emotions. 

“ I love him,^^ she said to herself, ‘‘I know that I do. 
But there^s something which holds me back and makes me 
uncertain of him and of myself. It^s my pride, I suppose 
— and jealousy — and perhaps a want of real feeling. If I 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


263 


loved him entirely I shouldn't stop to think. Oh, I wish 
that I wasn^t so unhappy 

Poor Gretta cried bitterly that night as she tossed about 
on her hot bed, now regretting that she had not nobly sur- 
rendered, now bemoaning her momentary weakness. At 
last, with characteristic pluck and recklessness, she deter- 
mined that she would throw herself, heart and soul, into the 
LeichardPs Town gayeties and abide by the issues of Fate. 

Next morning the cattle started, and the whole force of 
the station turned out to escort them for the first mile or 
two on their road. There was much cracking of whips and 
an overpowering bustle and uproar as the beasts were led 
out of the yards, and made to join what was called the 
“ tailing mob,'’'’ or those which had been constantly herded. 
After several wild gallops and furious rushings to and fro,, 
all were at last collected into a surging, trampling, bellow- 
ing mass, which moved slowly onward, only kept from 
breaking by the perpetual whip-wielding of the outside 
fringe of drovers. 

It was a typical Australian scene, and, as such, Gretta 
insisted that Isabel should view it from the un walled gable- 
end of a corn-loft overlooking the stock-yard. 

The confusion had, as yet, been too great for good-byes; 
and Isabel had exchanged no further word with Brad dick. 
She saw him afar off, in the midst of the cattle, and to en- 
dure, without word or sign, the heart hunger which de- 
voured her, was hard indeed. She sat, very still and pale, 
watching the maneuvers, kind Mollie shielding her from 
the observation of the unsympathetic. Mollie had found 
the opportunity to tell her that nothing had passed between 
Clephane and Braddick; that her husband was quite pre- 
pared to believe the Westmoreland theory a creation of 
Gustavus Blaize^s imagination, and was, at any rate, not 
going to say anything which could create distrust in Brad- 
dick. 

Before starting, Pat Desmond rushed up to the loft to 
bid the ladies an emotional farewell. Jinks howled, and 
Pat^s eyes were-not quite dry, when he bowed over Gretta^’s 
hand. 

“ Sure! and iPs like King Comongin that I feel, banished 
from Doondi,^^ he said, as he went off; “ itTl be a year, 
barring bad luck and the blacks^ spears, before I see it 
again. Youfil have gone home, may be. Miss, Gauntlett. 


264 : 


THE HEAD STATION. 


And you. Miss Gretta, snapped up by a Leichardt^s Town 
swell. Never mind; tliereTl be Jinks left to warm the cold 
cockles of my heart. 

At the last moment, "when the cattle were almost out of 
sight, Braddick rode back at full gallop, got off his horse, 
and ran up the creaking w^ooden staircase. 

‘‘ Mrs. Clephane,^^ he said, advancing with outstretched 
hand, and looking in his busliman^s dress, Isabel thought, 
so noble, and so manly, and so true, my good-byes last 
night were curt and thankless. I have come back to tell 
you and Miss Eeay that I have felt to my heart your kind- 
ness and trust, and that I hope I may never abuse them. 
Good-bye. 

They shook hands. 

“You have all our best wishes, said Mollie; “ I am 
sure that you will prosper. 

“ Take care of yourself, Mr. Braddick,^ ^ said Gretta; 

we shall meet again before long. I know that youJl 
come back, having made your fortune, and we shall give 
you the heartiest welcome. Good luck to you out west.^^ 

Braddick uttered a few words of thanks, and of recipro- 
catory wishes. He kissed Jinks. Last of all he turned to 
Isabel. They looked into each other’s eyes, and clasped 
hands; but not a word was spoken. 

He went abruptly down the stairs. A minute later he 
had mounted his horse again. He looked up, his eyes seek- 
ing Isabel’s face only. He lifted his hat in a reverential 
salutation, then set spurs to his horse, and ere many min- 
utes was gone from their sight. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN.” 

With the starting of the cattle the order of every-day 
life at Doondi seemed broken up. 

The Head Station worked itself into a mild state of po- 
litical ferment when Mr. Reay, as a minirter, went again 
before his constituents for election; and there was some 
bustle of preparation and much arrangement of plans in 
connection with the move to Leichardt’s Town. The ex- 
citement was nursed by Gretta and Isabel, wRo were both 
in a condition to require a counter irritant or an anodyne. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


265 


Hester Murgatroyd appeared to have sunk into apathy. 
She refused to go to Leichardt^s Town, or, as was suggest- 
ed, to stay with Mrs. Clephane at Tieryboo; but, though she 
would be there alone, insisted upon remaining at Doondi. 
Finally it was settled that Sib should, as far as was practi- 
cable, take up his residence at the Head Station, and that 
Mrs. Blaize should come over occasionally and bear her 
company. 

So the summer party dispersed. The new minister in- 
stalled himself at the capital, Mollie and her children went 
back to Tieryboo, and an elderly German professor suc- 
ceeded Durnford as tutor. 

Clephane returned, after taking his wife home, to escort 
the two girls to town; but the very day before that fixed 
for their departure the February rains began to fall. The 
river rose and became a yellow and tumultuous torrent, the 
roar of which sounded strangely in IsabeFs ears. The gul- 
lies were bank and bank. Bill Stone came not with the 
mail, and for a month they were cut off from communica- 
tion with the outer world. Gretta chafed at the delay and 
was inwardly wretched, while outwardly she appeared spas- 
modically gay. She was secretly speculating concerning 
Wyatt^s movements. She had heard of his journey to 
Leichardk’s Town, and knew that the floods which detained 
her at Doondi would offer a reasonable excuse for his ab- 
sence from Gundalunda, should he desire to prolong it. 

February was waning when at last they left Doondi, halt- 
ing for the night at Ferguson^s station on their way down. 

Wyatt had not yet come back. 

Gretta was too proud to ask questions. Her moods 
seemed fitful, but she was remorsefully gentle in her man- 
ner to James. Something in his face touched her deeply. 
She saw that he too had suffered. He looked wan and sad. 
In truth, he was heart-sick. He had been fighting his 
trouble, and had brought himself to believe that he must 
resign his love. He was glad at this time to be relieved of 
WyatFs company; and would willingly have put obstacles 
in the way of his partner's return. He had already deter-* 
mined that in the event of Gretta^s engagement to Wyatt 
he would sell his share in the station and go to England. 
With what a pang he reflected that he would go alone! 
The idea was vividly in his mind while they sat talking in 
the veranda after dinner; and his tone, and a tinge of hope- 


^66 


THE HEAD STATION. 


lessness in his words, when he alluded casually to the future 
and to the possibility of his soon being far from Gunda- 
lunda, struck Gretta, and moved her to say anxiously: 

“ James, what is it? You are not thinking of making 
any change in your life, are you?^^ 

‘‘I don^t know, Gretta,"'^ he answered. There are 
circumstances under which it might be hard for me to stay 
on the Eura. But donT talk of it now. Let us see what 
this year will bring forth. We decided — do you remember? 
that it was going to be an eventful one. 

For me,^^ said Gretta. She sighed. Yes, I remem- 
ber. I said I had a presentiment that my butterfly exist- 
ence was drawing to an end; and I think my presentiment 
is coming true. ’ ^ 

They did not speak for a minute, then James said: 

“ Gretta, will you tell me honestly. Are you engaged to 
Wyatt?” 

No, I am not. I will be frank. He has asked me to 
marry him, but I canT make up my mind whether he cares 
for me with his whole heart, and whether I so care for him. ” 

James put his hand to his forehead. 

Ah!^^ he said, “ you are going to try an experiment.^^ 
He went on after another pause, “If it is a failure — 

“ Yes?^^ she asked. 

“ I^m afraid that isnT likely, he said, slowly. “ Yet 
somehow I feel as though it couldnT be intended that you 
should slip right away from me. I^ve loved you so much 
that it would seem a waste of all that is strongest in me if 
I were to be put forever outside your life. ” 

“ Youfll never be outside my life, James, exclaimed 
Gretta, impulsively. “ You will always be my best friend.” 

“ Oh,” he said, with a sad little laugh, “ I ask for bread 
and you give me a stone. ” 

“ James,” said Gretta, earnestly, rising as she spoke, 
and nervously clasping her hands together, “ donT think 
me unkind, but I canT talk to you; it makes me so misera- 
ble.” 

“ I shall not trouble you much in Leichardt^s Town, 
Gretta, ” he said, rising also. 

“I want to forget everything, and to let myself go,” 
Gretta went on with agitation; “ I^m not worth thinking 
about, Janies. I’m a reed, swayed to and fro by the wind. 


THE HEAD STATIOIT. 


267 


I don^t understand myself. I only know that I am 
wretched. 

Her voice faltered. He put out his hands in a gesture 
of sympathy, and gave himself a little shake, as though he 
would be rid of the s^lf-pity which had made him blind to 
her pain. 

It^s base of me to play the ill-used cur,^^ he exclaimed. 
‘‘Oh! give me credit for not being wholly selfish. I don^t 
know what it is that troubles you, Gretta — or, perhaps, I 
can guess. 

“ No, do not guess, she interrupted. 

“ I only want you to feel that k’d rather be second best, 
as you once said, than not have any right to help and com- 
fort you. You^ll always feel, won^t you, that I^m the 
same, and that you can surely count upon my love — no 
matter what happens, or how little vou can give me in re- 
turn? And, if you ever want me in Leichardt^s Town, just 
write and say ‘ Come,^ and ITl be there. 

It was late in the afternoon when Clephane and his 
charges arrived at the Leichardt^s Town terminus. Mr. 
Reay was there to meet them, a little more carefully 
dressed than had been his wont, and with an air of official 
dignity upon his countenance which struck Isabel as com- 
ical. He took them to a cab; and as they drove along 
pointed out with pride the office of “ Works, that of 

Lands, any other public edifices, which adorned the 
main street. The town, with its new look, its strange 
jumble of architecture — verandaed house, pretentious stone- 
buildings, shops with plate-glass windows, and v/ooden 
shanties, all mixed up together; its odd-looking vehicles — 
hngles of American build, bearing a family hkeness to an 
Irish jaunting-car; colonial buggies, and an occasional bul- 
lock-cart, in contrast with hansom cabs and English car- 
riages — all the strangeness and the incongruities of an anti- 
podean city — struck Isabel as the most curious place she 
had ever seen. 

It was, however, full of life and bustle. The river wind- 
ing in and out in snake-like curves was crowded with small 
craft. Flags floating from the observatory denoted the 
arrival of steamers in the bay. A great pennon hung over 
the Houses of Parliament— a big, zinc-roofed stone block, 
overlooking the public gardens on one side and the river 


2G8 


THE HEAD STATION. 


on the other, which was situated not far from the English, 
suburban-like terrace where Mr. Eeay had established him- 
self for the session. 

Beyond the parliamentary buildings, in an inclosure 
dotted with clumps of bamboo, like gigantic Prince of 
Wales^s feathers, lay Government House, the British stand- 
ard showing imposingly above its colonnaded front. The 
Government House Lodge was within sight of the Reays^ 
dwelling, and, as the cab drew up, a carriage, with an or- 
derly behind it, came out of the iron gates and flashed by 
in full view of the new arrivals. 

A young lady and an old gentleman were seated in it. 
Mr. Reay took off his hat. The lady bowed. Gretta had 
a vision of a pale proud face and deep dark eyes, shining 
from under the brim of a picturesque Rubens hat. Involun- 
tarily she drew in her breath. It was easy to guess that this 
was Hermione Baldock. 

“ What do you think of the new mistress of Government 
House?^^ asked Mr. Reay as they entered the drawing- 
room. 

“She is very English, returned Gretta; “ she has the 
stamp, of fashion. I have no doubt that she looks down 
upon us all. Tell me about her, father. 

“I dined at Government House last night, said Mr. 

^ Reay. ‘ ^ A big ministerial affair. I was thinking that my 
wee bush barb^arian would show fair in her braw clothes 
even against Miss Baldock. Pm no saying that^s she’s not 
beautiful; and the stamp of fashion is just undeniable. 
She’s very pleasant, and clever at the making o’ a body.” 
Mr. Reay eyed his daughter affectionately. “ You’re thin- 
ner, child. It seems to me that you are neither of you 
looking just as well as you were.” 

“We are pining for amusement,” cried Gretta, with 
forced vivacity; “ we want to plunge straight into the vor- 
tex of society. I am going to take a new departure. I 
mean to become worldly, brilliant, and vicious. Do you 
hear, father?” 

“ Well,” said he, slowly, “ you may have your fling out. 
It’s what I was looking for.” 

“ I warn you,” continued Gretta, “ that I intend to go 
everywhere I am asked, till I am intoxicated by draughts 
of dissipation. Can’t we begin to-night? Isabel is as keen 
as I am. We’re a pair of Bacchanalians.” 


THE HEAD STATION. 


269 


There was something dreary in the sound of Gretta^s 
laughter; but her feverish excitement was infectious. Mr. 
Eeay pointed to some square cards upon the mantel-shelf, 
which announced that a concert for the benefit of some 
local charity would be given at the School of Arts that 
evening in the presence of His Excellency the Governor, Miss 
Baldock, and suite. It was arranged at once that they 
should go; and the two girls ran off to inspect their rooms 
and unpack their trunks. 

The School of Arts was crowded. It was a long room, 
with a gallery and stage at one end, and was used for pub- 
lic balls and charitable entertainments of this nature. Be- 
low the stage, a carpeted space had been reserved for the 
governor and his party. In this were several fauteuils of 
state, and before them, upon a small table, were laid pro- 
grammes printed on white satin, and a magnificent bou- 
quet. It was evident that the amateurs wished to render 
their homage to Miss Baldock. 

A rush had been made for the rows of seats immediately 
behind the vice-regal couches; and, somewhat to Gretta’s 
chagrin, it was found that the tickets which had been sent 
the Minister for Works were available only for a side block 
of chairs, darkened by t}?e gallery, the occupants of which 
would be neither accessible nor conspicuous to those people 
filling the body of the hall. 

But it was a good vantage-ground for observation; and 
Gretta eagerly scanned the room, without, however, dis- 
covering the object of her search. Presently the orchestra 
began to play ‘^God save the Queen, and a little commo- 
tion followed among the audience, which stood up obstruct- 
ing Gretta ^s view. When everybody had sat down again 
she saw that the space in front was occupied. There was 
some settling of chairs, arranging of wraps, and so forth. 
A tall soldierly old man, with a heavy gray mustache and 
an order upon his breast, surveyed the company, bowing 
here and there. A slender stately girl stood up and di- 
vested herself of a feather-trimmed cloak, while she nodded 
and smiled over the bouquet which was handed to her by 
one of the gentlemen. It was she whom Gretta had seen 
flashing by in the carriage that afternoon. 

How beautiful she was! how dignified and self-possessed! 
with what gracious ways, and what an engaging smile! To 


270 


THE HEAD STATION. 


Gretta^s fancy she resembled a lily. Her complexion was 
clear and pale, her features delicately cut, and her eyes 
large and dark. Her golden hair was drawn up from the 
nape of her long neck and coiled above her forehead, and 
she wore a quaintly fashioned robe of dull red velvet, 
trimmed with old lace and cut away from her throat. 

And this was the woman whom Bertram Wyatt had 
loved ! 

So absorbed was Gretta that she did not at first notice 
three or four gentlemen in plain evening dress who stood 
near the governor, and were presumably the “ suite. 

One of these came forward as Miss Baldock seated her- 
self, and gave her a programme, while he took the vacant 
place by her side. It was with difiiculty that Gretta re- 
pressed a sharp cry. The blood seemed to forsake her heart, 
and the fights and the stage swam before her eyes. She had 
recognized Wyatt. 

For a few minutes she sat like one stunned, her hands 
clinched tightly together, the music which had begun, 
makmg a meaningless sound in her ears. Then, her pre- 
dominant feeling was the longing that he might not dis- 
cover her presence. She shrunk further back into the 
shadow of the gallery. Fortunately, no one observed her 
agitation. Her brother-in-law sat beside her and was too 
much occupied in showing Isabel the local celebrities to 
have any attention to bestow upon her. From her position 
she could watch every movement of both Wyatt and Miss 
Baldock. They did not speak to each other while the con- 
cert was going on. Hermione sat, composed and serious; 
he looked dreamily at the stage. Once, at the opening • 
notes of a song — it might have been one with which they 
had personal associations — they turned, as if involuntarily, 
and their eyes met. Gretta could not see his face, but that 
of Miss Baldock was bent full in her direction, and it wore 
an expression which Gretta, with swift intuition, interpreted 
to her own pain. 

The interchanged glance was brief. In a moment Miss 
Baldock was looking down at her bouquet; and Wyatt 
seemed once more occupied with the performace. Gretta 
studied his profile. He looked tired, she thought, burdened 
as if with secret care; altogether more moody than he had 
appeared at Doondi. She told herself that he was sufiering 
under the power of old-new influences. She felt sorry for 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


271 


him, and loved and hated him at the same time. She pitied 
herself also; and then, like a wave, there came over her tlie 
remembrance of that last night at Doondi, when they had 
stood together under the orange-trees, and he had kissed 
her. 

There was a stir in the audience when the first part of the 
programme was concluded. Clephane had spied Wyatt, 
and was making efforts to attract his attention, in the vague 
hope that a presentation to Miss Baldock might ensue. 
But Gretta besought him to moderate his transports, and 
declared, with a hard little laugh, that it would be unkind 
to disturb Mr. Wyatt, in his present exalted position, and 
that she wanted to give him a surprise presently. 

Just then, Mr. Reay, who had a knack of introducing 
inappropriate subjects, leaned over, and said to his son-in- 
law: 

‘‘ I got a letter about the cattle yesterday from Pat. 
They are camping at Araluen and spelling the horses. All 
doing well, except that five of Nash^s herd strayed and got 
bogged; and one of the bulls showed signs of pleufo. But 
that fellow Braddick hasiiT behaved well — at least I don^t 
think so. He exchanged billets with a pal of his at Ara- 
luen — quite as good a man, Pat tells me, and knows the 
coimtry, so that we are none the worse off. Braddick has 
struck out west. Did you ever hear of such a fool — to 
throw away a good chance of getting on, and for no reason?’^ 

“ Ah!'' said Clephane, with a start, and added in a tone 
of relief, ‘‘ Well, I'm not altogether sorry. But will the 
new man do for the out-station?" And then followed 
some business talk, during which poor Isabel sat like Gretta, 
dumbly suffering. It seemed to her that the only link be- 
tween herself and the man she loved was now broken. 

The entertainment came to an end at last. The orches- 
tra again played “ God save the Queen," and, as etiquette 
enjoined, no one of the fashionable herd moved till the 
Government House party had departed. Wyatt placed 
Miss Baldock's sumptuous cloak round her shoulders, and 
she walked down the gang-way on her father's arm. A 
neutral-tinted, dried-up looking man carried her bouquet; 
and Gretta found herself wondering sardonically whether 
his excellency was often compelled to change his aides-de- 
camp and private secretaries, or whether he took care to 
engage case-hardened persons. 


272 


THE HEAD STATION. 


Wyatt disappeared. The night was mild and clear, and 
both Gretta and Isabel welcomed the sugestion of a walk 
home. Captain Clephane parted with them at the door of 
the concert-hall, and declared his intention of strolling to 
the club, and seeing if he could pick up Wyatt. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

THE CLUB BALL. 

The next morning he announced that he had done so, 
and that Bertram had been greatly surprised to hear of 
their arrival in town and of their being present at the con- 
cert, and had said that he would call that very afternoon. 
Clephane further remarked that Wyatt had turned savage 
upon being chaffed about Miss Baldock; and Gretta had to 
endure some unconsciously barbed pleasantries upon the de- 
fection of her Doondi admirer. 

Gretta^'s flirtations, however, were too much a matter of 
course for one so obviously the result of propinquity to be 
seriously regarded. Also, there was an opinion, more or 
less generally received in the family, that faithful James 
Ferguson would eventually be acknowledged as the privi- 
leged suitor. 

Gretta bore herself bravely, and only Isabel suspected 
the hurt. No confldences were asked or given by either of 
the girls. WyatPs proposed visit was not again referred to; 
but after luncheon Gretta suggested a long shopping-expe- 
dition and a drive in the environs of Leichardt^s Town, 
and Isabel guessed that it was because she wished to avoid 
him. They did not return till late. Wyatt^s cards lay 
upon the hall-table, side by side with a square missive which 
intimated that Miss Baldock would hold a reception every 
Thursday, and would also be at home to Mr. and Miss 
Reay and Miss Gauntlett upon an evening at no very dis- 
tant date. Gretta went upstairs without a word. Wyatt 
did not pay a second visit, and two days later they heard 
that he had gone back to Gundalunda. 

Gretta had a good deal of the Spartan, as well as a touch 
of the Bohemian, in her composition. In the former re- 
spect, notwithstanding her sensitiveness, Isabel resembled 
her, and each girl made a private contract with herself to 


THE HEAD STATION. 


273 


show a brave front to the world, to live in the present, and 
to extract as much consolation as was possible from the 
stirring life which opened before them. 

The political fever ran hi^h in Leichardt^s Town. The 
wives and daughters of Ministerialists and Oppositionists 
were infected by the prevailing enthusiasm; andGretta dis- 
played a passion for making converts to an anti-railway 
policy which must have strengthened the force of her 
father^s party. She had little time for quiet thought. The 
session had brought do vn a number of well-to-do and so- 
cially aimless squatters seeking diversion. These were de- 
lighted to drop in, out of parliamentary hours, at the house 
in Roper^s Terrace, where the Eeays were installed, and 
eager in concocting schemes for riding-parties, picnics, 
boating excursions, and small dances. The whirl was in- 
cessant; for, when other pastimes failed, there was always 
amusement to be found in the Ladies' Gallery, nor was the 
stimulant of admiration wanting. Both girls received vari- 
ous offers of marriage, which from their casual nature per- 
plexed and bewildered Isabel — the range of suitors extending 
from wealthy senators to Civil Service clerks, and the ques- 
tion of settlements or suitability appearing purely second- 
ary. In fact, the hap-hazard manner in miich Leichardts- 
tonians faced matrimony might have surprised any denizen 
of a colder sphere. 

Gretta took these affairs coolly, and got into a way of 
counting her proposals on her fingers, artlessly remarking 
that she liked keeping the number even; and that, as, ac- 
cording to novels, men broke so many hearts in England, 
it was only fair that they should be made to suffer in the 
Antipodes. 

Miss Baldock evinced some desire to cultivate Gretta' s 
acquaintance; but the Australian girl held back, resenting 
the suggestion of patronage and always showing to disad- 
vantage in the Government House atmosphere. Under 
these circumstances. Miss Baldock turned to Isabel. The 
two were congenial companions, and some of Isabel's pleas- 
antest hours at that time were spent in Hermione's morn- 
ing-room. She learned to know and admire the young mis- 
tress of Government House; and ere long divined that, 
under that delicate self-possession and fine air of agreeabil- 
ity, there flowed a turbulent under-current, the source of 
which she fancied she could trace. 


274 


THE HEAD STATION. 


It was the night of the ball given by the members of the 
Leichardt’s Land Club in welcome of the new governor, 
and postponed, at his request, to the cooler season. 

The club-house was admirably adapted to an occasion of 
this kind. It stood back from the street, screened by giant 
clumps of bamboos, and had a wide veranda round its sides, 
and a large garden stretching in its rear. Ho paius had 
been spared in the decoration of house and grounds. The 
trees and shrubs were hung with Chinese lanterns, and tiny 
lamps outlined the flower-beds. Here and there, were 
arches wreathed with pampas-grass and dimly lighted 
bowery pavilions; bananas and feathery palms gave a curi- 
ous tropical aspect to the scene, and the air was filled with 
the perfume of gardenias and of late roses. 

The ball-room — long, low, festooned with flags, and 
adorned with cunningly arranged devices of palm-leaves 
and fronds of the tree-fern — presented an attractive ap- 
pearance, suggestive of anything hut barbarism. The 
cedar boards reflected lights and moving forms. The 
French windows leading into the veranda and garden were 
framed in flowers and greenery. A fountain plashed melo- 
diously over moss and ferns; while above the slightly ele- 
vated dais, which was banked up by azaleas and deep-hued 
calladiums; a floral arch had been erected, with a mono- 
gram in white roses surmounted by the arms of LeichardCs 
Land, and “ Welcome executed in poinsettia leaves. 

The Reays were among the early arrivals. One by one’, 
guests filed in till the rooms were quite full. At half past 
nine — ^for fashionable hours do not prevail in Australia — 
the band struck up the national anthem, the members of 
the club ranged themselves in two lines; the little travesty 
of a reception of royalty was played, and the governor, with 
his daughter on his arm, made his entrance. 

Miss Baldock, in white lace, with diamonds on her head 
and neck, looked more than usually high-bred and beauti- 
ful. She was very gracious, and invited Gretta to sit near 
her. They went up together to the dais, which, by a tacit 
interpretation of vice-regal etiquette, was upon these occa- 
sions held sacred to the govemor^s party, the ministers, 
with their families, and the other magnates who might be 
present. Gretta was in the j)roud position of being, as it 
were, entitled to a tabouret , and was told off to a young 
minister for the opening quadrille. She was accustomed to 


THE HEAD STATION. 


275 


make merry with Isabel over these distinctions and the 
chagrin of elder ladies of whom she took precedence, but, 
at the same time, they added zest to her enjoyment. The 
upper set had formed, and Isabel, not under official obliga- 
tions, had refused a disagreeable partner, and gave a start 
of pleasure at the sight of Ferguson advancing. He asked 
her for the dance. They took their places. 

I did not expect to see you here,'’-’ she said. 

‘‘We only came down this afternoon. Wyatt was with 
me.^^ 

When the dance was over, as they followed in the wake 
of promenaders, he put questions of which Gretta was in- 
directly the subject. Had she been enjoying herself? 
Were they very gay? Was Miss Reay greatly admired? 
Did they see much of Miss Baldock? 

Isabel spoke rather constrainedly in Hermione^s praise. 
There was but little to tell of Gretta, except that she was 
much sought after, and seemed to like the whirl. Fer- 
guson sighed. 

“ She told me that she intended to make an experiment, 
he said. “ I thought she seemed out of spirits a little while 
ago. You know she complained that the bush was dull. 
I should be glad to know if this sort of life suits her bet- 
ter.^" 

Wyatt was standing before Gretta when they approached 
her. He had gone straight to her before even addressing 
Miss Baldock. He held her programme, and had just put 
his name down for a waltz. 

His manner was a little embarrassed, and his eyes wan- 
dered restlessly about the room. He made some light re- 
mark upon the show of beauty and fashion, and added: 
“ In the midst of such a brilliant assemblage, you doiiT 
sigh for London society?^'’ 

“ It would be foolish to sigh for the unattainable,^"’ an- 
swered Gretta. She made an effort to be sprightly; but 
her eyes were piteous, and they fell before those of Ber- 
tram, suddenly turned upon her face. 

“ You see,^^ he said abruptly, “ I have come down for 
this particular ball. I think "you once expressed a wish 
that I should be here; and I am obedient.-’^ 

At that moment Ferguson came forward. His heart 
bounded at the light which came slowly into Gretta’s face. 


276 


THE HEAD STATION. 


Am I too late for anything. Miss Reay, or will you give 
me a dance? 

Oh, James, I am so glad to see you. Yes, of course. 
She took her card from Wyatt and handed it to him. 

He wrote his name two lines below that filled up by 
Wyatt. 

The music began. Captain Agar, the neutral-looking 
aid-de-camp, who was sufficiently withered to be attracted 
by Gretta^’s fresh beauty, claimed her promise. 

As they were moving off, he greeted Wyatt. 

How are you? Capital ball, isnT it? AinT those palms 
well done? I am getting a wrinkle for our decorations. I 
havenT seen you since you dined at Government House — 
the night we went to that squalling match. His excellency 
was asking after you just now.^’ 

“ ITl go at once and pay my respects,^^ said Wyatt ad- 
vancing toward Miss Baldock, who was ascending the dais. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

GRETTA AN EAVESDROPPER. 

He sat talking to her till it was time for him to dance 
with Gretta. They glided into the center of the room,^not 
speaking; and then floated on and on, both with a dream- 
like sense of unreality and of giving themselves up to the 
illusion of the moment; both dreading the pause when con- 
versation must be opened. 

Though, in fact, they were so near, and though his 
material closeness and his way of holding her to him in the 
waltz roused in Gretta a feeling of luxurious abandonment 
to the fleeting joy, she knew by instinct that the spiritual 
distance between them had immeasurably widened during 
the past weeks. 

Yet she tried to combat the impression; and as they 
moved in rhythmic harmony with the music she reasoned 
with herself in a dazed way. Why, because he had again 
been received into friendly intimacy by Miss Baldock, 
should it follow that he wished to renew their former rela- 
tions? Was not this unembarrassed friendliness rather 
proof to the contrary? Perhaps he had told Hermione 
about her — Gretta, and that would accomit for the former^s 
evident desire for cordial intercourse. 


THE HEAD STATION. 277 

When at last they stopped, his eyes seemed to seek hers 
more tenderly. 

‘‘ Do you like it?^^ he asked. 

Yes,^^ she answered. 

‘‘You dance beautifully,^^ he returned; “ better than 
any one I ever danced with;^^ and presently they whirled 
on again. 

After it was over they went out into the veranda, which 
was partially closed in and dimly lighted. People were 
passing into the garden, and Bertram and Gretta joined the 
string. For a few minutes they talked commonplaces, ad- 
mired the fountains, and a curious lime-light elfect that 
made the bamboos look spectral, and cast strange gleams 
and shadows upon the swaying banana-leaves. Then he 
said without preliminary: 

“ You must have been surprised the night of the concert 
to see me with the Government House party?^^ 

Gretta was silent. 

“ I met General Baldock one day quite unexpectedly, 
walking in the Botanical Gardens. I donT know whether 
he thought that all danger was past, and that I had been 
cured of my folly, or that it would be better policy to affect 
to ignore it — 

He halted. Gretta made no comment. 

“ I suppose,-’^ he went on, “ that it is the duty of a gov- 
ernor upon entering into a new kingdom to forgive all pri- 
vate grudges, and there might have been some awkwardness 
about excluding me from his ball-list. 

“ Perhaps so,^^ rejoined Gretta, icily. 

“At any rate,” said Wyatt, “he asked me to dinner, 
and I went.^^ 

There was another silence. Both were vividly conscious 
of a conversation at Doondi. Both felt it impossible to 
pronounce Miss Baldock^s name. 

They walked back toward the ball-room. “ Gretta, 
said Wyatt with a sort of desperate energy, “ you know I 
am at your orders. Give them to me. I will stay or not 
in LeichardPs Town, as you please. I will do whatever 
you like. When shall I come and see you?^^ 

She looked up at ^im shyly but eagerly; but his face was 
turned away. 

“ When shall I come?'' he said again, yet not showing 
any anxiety in his tone. “ To-morrow?" 


278 


THE HEAD STATION. 


‘‘ Yes/^ she replied, quietly. “ To-morrow, if that is 
what you would like. 

“ Of course it is what I should like. I shall come to- 
morrow afternoon. You will be tired in the morning 

“ Yes,^^ assented Gretta. 

‘‘ Do you remember, he asked, that we are near the 
end of March, and that my term of probation is expiring 

‘‘ March, is not ended yet,^'’ she answered, wondering, 
while she spoke, at her own calmness. “ There was no 
term fixed; or rather, you fixed it, and I did not agree. 

They h^ reached the door. He stopped and looked 
down at her steadily. He saw that her hand shook as she 
raised her bouquet to her face, but she would not meet his 
eyes. ‘‘ Then,^^ he said, “ wonT you put me out of my 
suspense and give me my answer to-night?^^ She hesitated 
before replying. 

“ No,^^ she exclaimed, her calmness gone; I will keep 
to my bargain. Remember we are both free.^^ 

‘‘ In honor? he asked in a peculiar tone. 

As he spoke a partner reminded Gretta that the music 
had begun. She moved away with the new-comer. 

Ferguson^s dance came after this one. Gretta talked 
with so much animation that he almost believed her vivac- 
ity real till he had studied her face closely and noted its 
look of hardness and weariness and the suspicious quiver of 
the muscles about her mouth. She threw herself into home 
topics, asking if he had been to Doondi. 

‘‘Yes,^'’ he answered, “I took Mrs. Blaize over. I 
thought your sister was looking very unwell. 

‘‘ Poor Hester rejoined Gretta, lightly, she is so odd; 
she insists upon moping. I am glad that Aunt Judith is 
with her. Well, and has anything startling happened on 
the Eura?^' 

“ No one is dead or married. Gustavus Blaize has been 
spreading an extraordinary story about Braddick — that his 
real name is Westmoreland, and that he was sent out here 
for forgery.’^ 

“ Then Mr. Braddick must be much older than he looks,^^ 
said Gretta, ‘‘ for it was in the days of our grandfathers 
that they stopped sending convicts here. I wonder that 
Gustavus didnT draw it a little stronger. Murder would 
have been much more sensational. So that^s his revenge! 
I told Isabel she might look for it.^^ 


THE HEAD STATION. 279 

Miss Gauntlet exclaimed Ferguson. You don^t 
mean that she and Braddick — 

“ I don't mean anything except that Old Gold proposed 
to her— naturally — and of course was rejected. He took it 
into his head to be jealous of Mr. Braddick, who is poor 
enough, one would think, to be out of the category of pos- 
sible admirers. " 

Gretta's artificial little laugh grated upon James's sensi- 
bilities. It ceased suddenly. Gretta stood still, and seemed 
to stiffen her frame as though she were steadying herself. 
They were walking in the garden, along a sequestered path, 
bordered on one side by a high hedge of the magnolia shrub, 
that which bears a small, highly perfumed purple flower, 
and on the other by a trellis covered with the large-leaved 
granadilla. A lady and gentleman had passed, their heads 
barely visible above the magnolia screen. Ferguson, preoc- 
cupied, had not noticed who they were, but the glint of 
Miss Baldock's diamond stars attracted Gretta 's attention, 
and she had no difficulty in recognizing the lowered profile 
of her companion. 

I don't like to hear you speak in that way, Gretta," 
he said; ‘‘ it sounds as if you were mercenary." 

JSo I am, James. Don't you know that an Austrahan 
girl's first aim is to captivate an Englishman of rank, and 
to be translated to a higher sphere— failing that, to make 
the best of a rich squatter? You see my destiny. " 

I don't believe it, Gretta. I am sure that if you really 
loved a man you'd stick to him, no matter how poor he 
might be. " 

‘‘No, no, James; I should think of the higher sphere, 
and of all the change and amusement I might get, and I 
should show myself a false and hollow worldling instead of 
a disinterested bush-girl. After all, excitement is the thing 
to be sought after, if only it didn't make one so tired." 

“ Let us sit down," said James, pointing to a bench near 
them. “ I like this place, it's so quiet, and I suppose I 
have been too long in the bush to care about excitement. 
The noise and glare of the ball-room seem to jar upon 
me." 

They seated themselves. 

“ Do I jar upon you?" asked Gretta. “ You needn't 
answer," she went on; “ you are finding me out, like other 
people: you begin to see how shallow and frivolous I am." 


280 


THE HEAD STATION. 


“ I see that you are not yourself, Gretta. I think that 
you are trying to act some sort of part, and to appear gay 
when you donH feel so. There ^s something wrong about 
you, dear, and your talk and laughter aren^t real.^^ 

I^m a little overdone, Jem,'^ said Gretta leaning her 
head back with a gesture of weariness. If I didn^t laugh 
and talk continually I should collapse altogether. 

“ That would be better than to strain your nerves. What 
is the use of it?^^ 

“ Oh, I doiiT know, James. What is the use of any- 
thing? It seems to me often that we are like engines which 
make a great buzz and wear out their machmery all for 
nothing.'^ 

James was silent. He looked at her sorrowfully. Pres- 
ently her laugh sounded again. She changed her reclining 
posture, and straightened herself, picking up her bouquet, 
which she had laid upon the seat beside her. 

^ ‘ How stupid I am ! I remind myself of a woman in a 
novel I was reading the other day, who was always giving 
utterance to some such flat would-be llase sentiment. I am 
as commonplace as Gustavus Blaize with liis conventional 
forgery."" 

James did not know how to answer her. This mood 
perpexled him. 

‘‘We ought to go in,"" she said; “ but it"s such a beau- 
tiful night — so warm — like the nights at Doondi. I am 
engaged for this dance to a clerk in the Lands office, who 
waltzes very well, and who tries to be a ‘ masher." Won"t 
you congratulate me upon having learned some English 
fashionable slang?"" 

Ferguson got up. “ No,"" he said; “ it doesn"t suit you. 
Look here,"" he exclaimed, in his earnest Australian way, 
“ I want you to rest, if it"s only for a quarter of an hour. 
I"m going in to get you a cloak, or something, and I mean 
you to sit here quietly, and not speak a word; I"ll keep 
guard over you; and yom’ partner may console himself with 
some one else. "" 

“ Well,"" she returned, “ since he is only a clerk in the 
Lands office, and not a wealthy squatter, it"s not of much 
consequence. "" 

Ferguson left her. As he walked quickly down the path, 
the two promenaders on the other side of the magnolias 
passed back again. They halted close to the bench on 


THE HEAD STATION. 281 

which Gretta sat. Had she put forth her arm she could 
almost have touched them through the bushes. 

They were talking very earnestly, and there was a note 
of emotion in both voices. That of Hermione Baldock rose 
clear and sweet. 

“ I am glad that there has been this explanation between 
us/^ she was saying. It makes the future less hard.^^ 

‘‘Our future rests with you/^ replied Wyatt. “ Do not 
let us have more mistakes. 

“ Ah/^ she said, with great sadness, “ you have made an 
irretrievable one.^^ 

“ Oh, not irretrievable!^^ he exclaimed. There was a 
brief pause. “ I was mad,'’^ he went on. “ It would have 
been impossible had I dreamed that you still cared for me. 

She did not answer. The moon was obscured by a driv- 
ing cloud. A large Chinese lantern, suspended from a tree 
overhead, flickered and went out. The darkness seemed 
to the poor listener like the darkness of despair. Gretta 
sat motionless, her teeth pressed into her lips, a faintness 
as of death stealing over her. 

“You are the guardian of my honor," continued Ber- 
tram, in agitated accents. “It is for you to say what I 
must do.^^ They seemed to have moved a little, for his 
voice sounded more distant. “ I have told you everything; 
my folly, my baseness. I donT try to palliate it. Good 
God! What must you think of a man who could not be 
faithful even for one year?^"’ 

. “ It was — a short time,^^ said Hermione, brokenly. 

You — might have waited — a little longer. . The words 
died away. They passed on. Gretta heard the rustle of 
Hermione^s dress, and his deep tones as he replied, but she 
could not tell what he said. 

Gretta rose from the bench, and stood for a few seconds 
dumb, with her hands pressed tight to her bosom, one over 
the other, as if she were crushing back a physical pain. 

She sat down again, her body bent forward, her sad, in- 
dignant eyes gazing forlornly into the night. Then she 
broke into a bitter little laugh, which seemed something 
like a mocking echo; and, almost unconsciously, words fell 
from her. Her tone was very low and full of compressed 
emotion. 

“ That^s over now," she said. “ It did not last long. 
But, oh! it hurts! — it hurts!" 


282 


THE HEAD STATION. 


“ Why did you do itr^^ she went on, after a minute, in 
the same hard whisper. “ It wasn't worth while. It was 
cruel— it was wicked! You might have let me alone. 
Don't you know? Oh, I hate you!" 

She staggered to her feet, and flung her arms wide, then 
let them fall helplessly. 

‘‘ I don't care!" she said, with another ghost of a laugh. 

I will not care! You shall never know how you have 
hurt me!" 

She walked down the alley. As she got near the end of 
it she could hear the music of the waltz; and the clonk of 
the Parliamentary Buildings struck midnight. 

“ There's a long time still," she murmured. I mustn't 
go away yet. I mustn't let people see. I must dance. Oh! 
to laugh — to dance!" 

Ferguson approached. He looked concerned at seeing 
her there. 

‘‘You got tired of waiting! I had to rummage in the 
cloak-room after all. I hope you did not mind." 

He put the wrap round her shoulders. As he did so, his 
hand. touched her bare neck. 

“ Gretta!" he exclaimed, “ how cold you are!" 

She shivered. “ Yes, I'm cold; and I've changed my 
mind. I don't want to be quiet now. I want to get back 
to the lights and people — and to dance. Come. 

She hurried on. At the veranda she paused. 

“ Jem," she said, “ I have got something to say to you. 
Will you come to-morrow and hear it?" 

“>Why not now?" he asked. 

“ Because it is something startling — serious; and this 
isn't the dramatic moment. Don't look frightened. I am 
only going to test the sincerity of your professions." 

“ I am not afraid," he answered. “ I have never said 
anything to you which I did not mean from the bottom of 
my heart. I will come to-morrow morning." 

“Ah!" said Gretta, with her bitter little laugh, “you 
are more considerate, or more anxious to see me than Mr. 
Wyatt. He proposed the afternoon for his visit because he 
thought I should be tired after to-night. But come in the 
morning. I particularly wish to see you first. " 


THE HEAD STATIOIS". 


283 


CHAPTER XLiy. 

“ SECOND BEST/^ 

The house in Roper Terrace was very quiet during the 
early part of the next morning. Mr. Reay breakfasted at 
nine, and went as usual to his office. Isabel, who had 
caught a slight cold at the ball, felt no inclination to bestir 
herself, while Gretta, after a restless, miserable night, 
dozed off after sunrise, and awoke late, with a terrible 
sense of impending doom, unalleviated by the feverish ex- 
citement which possessed her. 

When she was dressed, hearing a suspicious cough, she 
ran into IsabeTs room. 

“ Good child she said, seeing that the latter was still 
in bed. “ There you shall stay all day. I have some 
news for you. The English mail signal is up, and, as you 
enjoy the privilege of staying in the house of a Cabinet 
Minister, youTl get your letters two or three hours before 
the vulgar herd. ^ ' 

“ Gretta!’’ exclaimed Isabel, “ I think you are more fit 
for bed than I am. You look dreadfully ill. Do go back 
again and rest.” 

Gretta went to the looking-glass and scrutinized her pale 
face. 

“You are right. I am positively haggard. A sheet of 
white, stringy bark couldn’t look more limp and forbid- 
ding. You don’t happen to possess a rouge-pot, do you, 
Isabel:” 

“ Oh, Gretta!” ejaculated Isabel. 

“ Never mind, this will do. ” 

She took a crimson fiower from a vase on the dressing- 
table, and, crushing together two or three of its petals, 
made a pretense of anointing her cheeks, which, from the 
friction, glowed now with the richest carmine. 

“ You see,” she added, turning round, “ mine is a beauty 
easily patched up, but not calculated to stand the ravages 
of fatigue and emotion. It would be a pity not to look my 
best to-day. There’s always so much sentiment in the air 
after a ball, and I quite expect to see a bevy of our adorers 
this morning.” 


284 


THE HEAD STATION. 


Gretta fidgeted about the looking-glass as she spoke, try- 
ing the effect of a ribbon in her hair, and fastening a 
cluster of fiowers at her neck. 

‘‘ That^s better. I'll come and report progress by and 
by. Don't be alarmed. Being a young woman of prin- 
ciple I'll take no mean advantages. Your claims upon the 
sublime Senator and the obstreperous Oppositionist shall be 
respected. ' ' 

She was moving off. 

‘‘ Don't go yet," said Isabel, with a soothing gesture; 

“ lie down here and let us talk quietly over last night." 

Gretta gave an involuntary shudder. She paused, how- 
ever, and placed herself at the foot of the bed. 

I'm in an unsociable mood. My nerves are all to 
pieces. I want some moral champagne — a tragic scene or 
two for a pick-me-up. " 

Isabel could not help saying, * • 

“ I shall be sorry for poor Mr. Ferguson if you vent your 
feelings upon him." 

Gretta became serious. She looked dreamily into vacancy. 

It might be as well that he should see me in my worst 
mood," she said; “ I begin to think that I am a wicked 
flirt, and deserve punishment. I believe that I've rather 
gloated over the pangs I've inflicted upon men who were 
silly enough to make love to me. But you know, 

“ ‘ He jests at scars that never felt a wound.’ ” 

“ I don't believe you are so heart-whole, Gretta.''' 

There is a sort of equahzation of things in life," ex- 
claimed Gretta, abruptly. “ When a girl deliberately sets 
herself to make a man care for her, and then tosses him 
over, she is generally paid out. That's justice, but I sup- 
pose it's always hard when the judgment comes." 

At this moment the door-bell rang. Gretta started up. 

“ Good-bye," she said, as she left the room; ‘‘ wish me ' 
well through my tragic scenes." 

Gretta ran down-stairs, determinedly giving herself no 
time for preparations, and expecting that Destiny would 
meet her in the person of James Ferguson. But it was 
Captain Agar, the aide-de-camp, whom she found in the 
drawing-room. 

He had hardly said How d'you dgr" when the bell 
rang again, and another visitor entered. 


THE HEAD STATION. 


285 


This was the sergeant-at-arms, an elderly exquisite, who 
prided himself upon the beauty of his official lappets and 
upon the possession of a perfect lady’s hack. When Gretta 
appeared in the gallery of the Legislative Chamber he was 
wont, as he sat at the Bar of the House, to feast his eyes 
upon her charms till admonished by the speaker of his 
duties, and during the whole session he had borne the bur- 
den of an un confessed* love which now threatened to be too 
much for his peace. 

Both gentlemen had come upon the same errand — the 
arrangement of a riding picnic, and a request from the one 
that Miss Reay would mount the incomparable steed; from 
the other, that the day’s pleasure might wind up, with one 
of those informal dances for which Gretta had made the 
house in Roper’s Terrace famous. 

James Ferguson dropped in upon the discussion. At his 
arrival Gretta’s cheeks, which had paled again, became 
once more vivid pink. Her embarrassment was evident. 
She grew absent in manner, while there was a look of 
earnestness and of repressed anxiety upon Ferguson’s face 
which could not be mistaken. The heart of the sergeant- 
at-arms sunk, and Captain Agar smiled cynically. Pres- 
ently, at the suggestion of the latter, both men took their 
leave. 

James and Gretta were left alone. Then suddenly it 
seemed to her that the words she had in her mind, and 
which a little while ago she had thought so easy, were now 
impossible of utterance. During the night, or rather the 
morning watches, she had lashed herself into a state of self- 
scorn, recklessness, and general defiance of fate, and had 
found some sort of balm for her aching heart in concocting 
melodramatic little scenes by which she should secure her- 
self a position of vantage, and so assume the initiative, that 
neither Wyatt nor Miss Baldock should have ground for 
supposing that she had ever wished to involve herself in 
anything more serious than a flirtation. 

Since her return from the ball she had not shed a tear; 
she would not allow herself to soften, and resolutely steeled 
herself against every other consideration than that of pride. 
She did not think of Ferguson except as a prop to which, 
in this crisis, she might turn for support. She had decided 
within herself that she would tell him the truth, and ask 
him to make her his wife. If he failed her she must extri- 


286 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


cate herself unaided from a position that was galling to her, 
and definitely refuse Wyatt, before he himself claimed his 
liberty. But she knew that James would not fail her. 

Yet as she looked at him — at his stalwart figure that was 
in good truth a prop against which she might lean ever so 
heavily in safety, at his open face, his kind eyes that she 
fancied were to-day more brotherly than lover-like, her 
mental attitude changed; her flintiness and bitterness melt- 
ed, the tears rose to her eyes, and a longing came over her 
to be comforted a^id soothed. She turned to him as to 
something genuinely satisfying and altogether to be trusted. 
She hated herself for yearning toward n European cultiva- 
tion, that now appeared to her tinselly; and she felt a quick 
keen revulsion from her former emotions, a distrust of all 
the brilliant, romantic*un- Australian attributes, associated 
in her mind with her ideal hero, and with which shp had 
vaguely credited Bertram Wyatt. 

Though neither of them knew it, Gretta was at that mo- 
ment spiritually nearer to James Ferguson than she had 
ever been in her life. She did not love him — probably she 
would never love him in the closest, sweetest sense, but it 
was the moment of reaction, and the pendulum had swung 
backward. 

The street-door closed behind the departing visitors. 
Both James and Gretta were standing. As yet they had 
only spoken the ordinary commonplaces. Shyness and con- 
fusion seized Gretta, and that sick excited feeling at her 
heart became absolute pain. She knew that she was trem- 
bling. She longed to throw herself upon the sofa and let 
her sobs have their vent. She could not meet his question- 
ing gaze. She turned abruptly away and went into the 
back room, where there was a window facing a little piece 
of garden. She stood before it, struggling with the gasps 
which threatened to rise, and looking in a dazed way upon 
the sun-illumined grass-plat, and at the opening purple 
leaves which sheathed a cluster of young bananas. James 
came to her side and stood for a minute or two watching 
her face. 

“ Gretta,^ ^ he said at last, there^s something amiss with 
you. You thought I could help you, and that's why you 
told me to come; isn't it so? But now that I am here you 
don't like to say what is in your mind?" 


THE HEAD STATIOl^. 


287 


Yes, James, said Gretta, slowly, with her eyes still 
upon the banana flower. 

I wish I could make you understand that I don^t ask 
for anything better in the world than to serve you — no 
matter how. Say what it is you wish, and Til do it if it 
costs me my life. 

A strange little smile came over Gretta ^s averted face. 
“ It won't cost you as much as that, James, though it may 
cost you a great deal. " 

‘‘ Tell me what it is," he said. 

She waited a minute till she was sure of her voice. Then, 
turning and looking at him with wide expressive eyes, sne 
said, quietly: ‘‘ I told you that I was going to test your 
sincerity. You said that you'd take me- under any condi- 
tions. You said too— at Doondi — that by and by you'd 
ask me again to marry you. I — I want you to ask me 
now. I want everybody to know at once — to-day. " • 

Ferguson gave a great start. The blood rushed to his 
face, dyeing his forehead, and then faded, leaving him 
deathly pale.- 

Gretta," he said, hoarsely, “ don't play with me. It 
isn't a thing to joke about. What do you mean?" 

Gretta moved from the window, making the distance be- 
tween them wider. She leaned against the mantel-shelf, 
her head downcast, her fingers nervously interlaced; she 
too was very pale. She cast -one distressed glance at him; 
but in an instant controlled herself, and said as calmly as 
before, 

‘‘ I am not playing with you. I am in earnest." 

He did not answer, and she went on tremulously, 

‘‘ I know that you must think me unwomanly and horrid. 
It's only what I think myself. But I have this small justi- 
fication. I'm taking you at your word. When you spoke 
to me before I wasnT sure of myself, now I am sure of my- 
self. " 

He advanced toward her. 

“ Are you?" he asked, gravely. I wish that I could 
feel so." 

‘‘Perhaps," she said, “it is you who are not certain. 
You see now that I am not a nice sort of girl to have any- 
thing to do with, and you've altered your mind?" 

“ I am not considering myself at all," he answered sim- 
ply^ ‘‘you know that it would be impossible for me to 


THE HEAD . STATIOIs-. 


S88 

change. But, if you are in earnest, it is your whole life 
that you are deciding, and I don^t think one ought to do 
that on the spur of the moment; at least one should shrink 
a little, and weigh possibilities, before trusting one^s self to 
an impulse. 

I donH feel afraid of not making you a good wife, 
James — if that is what you mean — or of not caring for you. 
And I can^t weigh things. I must trust to my impulses. 
I don’t think I’m a very loving girl, in one sense. I get 
carried away by the liking for excitement. I — I’m impres- 
sionable, but it doesn’t go deep. I’m too proud to let a — 
a fancy get the better of me,” Gretta’s voice was breaking; 

I must turn to the real thing at last. ” 

Ferguson took 'her hand, and placed her in a chair. He 
himself remained standing with his back against the man- 
tel-piece. 

“‘‘Will you tell me what has changed you?” he said, 
gently. ‘^I know that you will be open with me; I can 
help you better then.” 

Gretta raised her hands impetuously, then let them drop 
suddenly into her lap again. 

“ Yes,” she answered, “ I will tell you the truth. That 
is your due. ” She paused, and timidly glanced up at him. 
“ Do you mind sitting near me?” she said; I can’t talk 
to you when you are like that — so high above me. It makes 
me feel as though you were looking down upon me — in a 
moral sense — which is natural enough,” and she smiled 
faintly. 

‘‘Oh!” he exclaimed, shrinking involuntarily as though 
she had hurt him; “ if that is what you feel, you under- 
stand very little of my love for you. ” 

He took a chair close to her. 

“Well?” he said, with a curious inflection of voice; “ I 
don’t think that you need tell me a great deal. I under- 
stand so much already.” 

“ Do you remember,” she said, her face turned to the 
window, “ the talk we had at Doondi — and afterward — on 
my way down! I told you that I wanted to make an experi- 
ment. I have tried and it has failed. ” 

“I know,” he replied, sadly; “but it is difficult to see. 
You said that he had asked you to be his wife. I made up 
my mind when you told me that. I knew that you must 


THE HEAD STATIOlf. 


289 


care f^r him, and that you would marry him if he were de- 
termined/'’ 

She colored hotly. 

“ He is not determined. He is sorry for what he said. 
It -passed the time, flirting with me — that^s all. Oh, if’s 
horrible ! That I should come back to you now— now that 
I know how true and good you are — and ask you to take 
pity on me. I hate myself. Jem, youVe a right to de- 
spise me and to cover me with still greater shame and hu- 
miliation. 

“ It is a comfort to me to hear you speak in this way,^^ 
said James, eagerly. “ You wouldnT care about the hu- 
miliation — though there^s none, that^s only your fancy, 
Gretta — if the wound were_deep.'’'’ He looked at hersearch- 
ingly for a minute. “ I am only anxious that you should 
not take a leap in the dark. I am not afraid, in reality, 
either for you or for myself. You know I said that I was 
content to be your ‘ second-best,'’ ^'’ and he smiled in a 
mournful way. ‘‘ I am vain enough to believe in my power 
to make you happy and win your whole love.-’'’ 

You are not second-best,'’'’ cried Gretta remorsefully. 
‘‘ You are the first — the best. Jem, I’ll be frank. I did 
care for him; even now I am torn in two. One minute I 
hate him, and the next — ah! my heart is sore.” 

She f al tered again. Ferguson '’s tenures seemed to harden, 
and the expression of his mouth became grim, as though he 
were struggling with himself. He put out his hand, not 
impulsively, but deliberately, and clasped hers, 

Go on, Gretta,'” he said, his voice sounding deeper for 
the contempt and indignation which were held in check. 
“ He deceived you. He did not know his own mind — as I 
know mine. But he was surely not mean enough to tell 
you so?” 

Gretta did not answer directly. She was gazing into 
space, her thoughts moving backward; and now she took 
them up brokenly. 

“ Jem, do you remember that night by the- lagoon — the 
first night he was at Doondi? You talked of Italy; and of 
how we would go there together. Oh! let us go now — away 
from the Eura, and everything.” 

‘‘ Yes, Gretta, we will go.” 

‘‘ I have always been very fond of you, Jem; and that 
night I was very nearly promising what you wished — if liis 
10 


290 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


voice hadn^t broken in. It was like a spell changing every- 
thing.^^ 

Ferguson face had softened at Gretta^s reference to that 
evening. Now, he sighed heavily and released her hand. 

'‘I think it was a sort of enchantment/^ Gretta went 
on; ‘‘it began then.^"' 

“ He deceived you,” said Ferguson, grimly. 

“ No, he did not deceive me, answered Gretta; “he 
told me that night about his engagement to Miss Baldock. 
All the time I seemed to know within myself that he loved 
her best — even when he asked me to marry him. It was 
that which kept me from saying ‘Yes;’ that, and, I think, 
a feeling I had about you. Last night I overheard some- 
thing he said to Miss Baldock. And now, you know it all. 
Oh, it’s no use pretending that I am not hurt. I am. I 
am. I can own it to you, though I’d rather die than that 
he should know it. But it won’t last. A sickness never 
lasts. This is a kind of fever. I won’t let myself be sick 
and sorry. You won’t let me, James.” 

In her agitation Gretta rose, and stood, a lovely image 
with flushed cheeks, and tearful eyes lifted to his. James 
got up too. Notwithstanding his sorrow and perplexity a 
vague feeling of amusement blended in his mind with his 
pity and his affection. There was something so child-like 
in Gretta’s upturned gaze, and in her appeal to him — while 
her wounded love and girlish pride — mingled so strangely 
with the determination not to be worsted — and her practi- 
cal Australian mode of securing a dignifled retreat from an 
embarrassing position — lent a touch of comedy to a some- 
what pathetic situation. 

He raised her hand to his lips. 

“We agree then to trust each other,” he said, gravely. 

Never, Gretta thought, was love’s compact sealed in so 
chivalrous a fashion. 


CHAPTER XLY. 

LADY HETHEEINGTON’S LETTEE. 

Geetta had prepared an ordeal for herself. She intend- 
ed with her own lips to announce to Wyatt her engagement. 
This was the dramatic point upon which her imagination 
seized. Perhaps for that very reason it may be conjectured 


THE HEAD STATION. 


291 


that the wound was less deep than she herself believed. At 
any rate the nerve-bracing which her determination involved 
was wholesome; and she found some melancholy satisfac- 
tion in dwelling upon her scheme. 

Fate, however, frustrated it. Wyatt did not call at Ro- 
per^s Terrace as he had said that he would do, and later in 
the day it was reported that he had that morning met with 
an accident while driving a restive horse, had been thrown 
from his buggy, and was lying at the club with a severely 
sprained ankle. 

At night he dragged himself to the smoking-room, where 
the members were wont to congregate after sitting at the 
House, and which at this time was a perfect hot-bed of gossip. 

Here he heard of Gretta^s engagement. 

The news had spread like wild-fire. Mr. Reay, after an 
interview, with Ferguson, had gone to the Executive, and 
had communicated it to his chief. The match took pre- 
cedence of political business. It was discussed in the lobby 
of the House. The sergeant-at-arms received it with 
mournful dignity, and one or two new converts to anti-rail- 
wayism thought of retracting their profession of faith. The 
intelligence reached Government House, and penetrated to 
Hermione Baldockatthe same time that a note was brought 
her from Wyatt telling her of his mishap. 

On the whole it gave satisfaction— every one said that it 
was very suitable. Mr. Reay considered that his favorite 
daughter could hardly have done better. Ferguson ""s pros- 
pects were good. Gundalunda was clear. James would 
stand at the next election, and would doubtless make a fig- 
ure in the House. And then, it had been for some time 
expected. 

Isabel Gauntlett had longed all day for the arrival of the 
English letters. She had a curious presentiment that the 
mail would bring her tidings of importance, though of what 
nature she was at a loss to imagine. But she was in the 
nervous, susceptible mood when presentiments are realities 
not to be disputed. 

Even the excitement attendant upon Gretta^s announce- 
ment, and the arrival of Sib from Doondi, did not quiet 
her inward flutter. She dressed and went down for dinner. 
Sib^s brown eyes met hers sympathetically. He seemed to 
divine her anxiety, for he said at once; 


292 


THE HEAD STATION. 


‘‘ The mail-steamer is stuck upon a mud-bank in the 
river, and can^ t get off till the tide is in. I thought you^d 
want to know. The letters wonT be delivered till to-mor- 
row. 

Sib was not altogether cheerful. Hester was ill and mo- 
pish, he said. He had left Aunt J udith with her. Cle- 
phane had received bad accounts of the traveling mob, and 
was anxious that he. Sib, should proceed immediately by 
steamer to a northern port, pick the cattle up on their way 
west, and assume the post of command for which young 
Desmond did not appear sufficiently experienced. Mr. 
Reay^s presence at Doondi was thought desirable for the ar- 
rangement of some station matters; and it was finMly set- 
tled that he should take advantage of the Easter recess, 
and make a flying trip to the Eura. 

The English letters came the next morning. Contrary 
to rule, IsabeFs anticipation of startling news was verifled. 
One directed in Lady Hetherington^s writing with the nar- 
row black border denoting complimentary mourning, was 
handed to her. She turned red and pale as she read, and, 
ere she had finished, rose and hurriedly left the table. 
Presently Gretta followed her to her bedroom. The first 
knock she gave was unheeded; when she entered she found 
Isabel seated at the table with the letter before her, her 
forehead resting upon her hands. 

Gretta stooped over her from behind. Isabel started and 
turned a face full of emotion and a kind of wondering awe, 
with tears beading her eyelashes, but they did not look like 
tears of sorrow. 

‘‘ Oh, Gretta she exclaimed, in a bewildered way. 

“ What is it?^^ asked Gretta, anxiously. “ Tell me. Has 
anything happened to your sister or her husband?’^ 

“ No, they are quite' well,'’’ said Isabel; ‘‘ it isn’t about 
them. It’s about — oh, Gretta, I don’t know how to tell 
you — or if I ought. I don’t know if it can be true — it’s all 
so wonderful. Oh, Gretta, I’m so glad. I’m so thankful.” 

Gretta came round, and, leaning against the table, drew 
down Isabel’s hands, which again supported her head. 

‘‘ I see what it is. I belie v^e that you have been deceiving 
us all this time. Miss Demure. You are engaged to some 
one in England, and they wouldn’t let you marry him. 
And now they have relented and have written to tell you. 
Isn’t it so? ’ 


THE HEAD STATION. 


293 


At Gretta^s words, which in one sense were not so wide 
off the mark, the vivid red flamed in Isahehs cheeks, but 
she answered more composedly: 

‘‘No, you are wrong, Gretta. There ^s no one in Eng- 
land that I care for in that way. But this does concern 
some one I trusted, in spite of appearances; and I am glad 
— glad to know I was right, and that he deserved it. 

IsabeTs lips quivered; and the tears started afresh. 

Gretta put her arm round thegirhs waist and kissed her. 
There was a tinge of bitterness in her tone as she answered : 

“You shouldnT be unhappy, then. It is generally the 
other way on when one has put faith in a man. May I not 
know who it is?^^ 

Isabel did not speak for a few moments. 

“No; by and by. I can not tell you anything. It^s all 
so strange, and I havenT thought over the letter. If there 
has been a secret it ishT mine to make public. 

“ Then you shall keep it, returned Gretta. “ ITl ask 
no questions, and will leave you with your wonderful letter. 
I had better relieve the anxiety of those two down-stairs, 
who are under the impression that you have heard of a sud- 
den death in your family. 

“ There has been death, said Isabel, confusedly; “ very 
sudden and awful. Two of my sister^s friends — a Colonel 
Westmoreland and his wife. She died in the hunting- 
field.^^ 

Gretta accepted the explanation, and went down-stairs to 
inform her father and Sib. Isabel turned again to Lady 
Hetherington^s letter, which ran thus: 


“ Heatherleigh, 13^^. 

“ My deaeest Isabel, — I have just received your letter 
containing the news of your safe arrival in Australia, and 
your first impressions of bush life, which I must say seems 
to me very rough and ‘ free-and-easy,^ and not a good train- 
ing-school for young ladies, charming though you describe 
Miss Eeay to be. I am rejoiced to hear that you like Jack^s 
wife; but, interesting as all your accounts are, I must defer 
comment upon them till my mind is in a more collected 
state. At present I have barely recovered from the shock 
of a most terrible occurrence. I mean the sudden deaths 
of Colonel and Mrs. Westmoreland, hers having taken place 
here, and his at Glen Wold a few days later, both under pe- 


294 


THE HEAD STATION. 


culiurly distressing circumstances. Richard and I have 
been so upset by the sad event that he has arranged with 
Colonel Slingsby to hunt the hounds for a short time, while 
we go to the Irvines, and then to the Suffolk Gauntletts, 
where I hope he may come in for the end of the covert 
shooting. 

‘‘I will give you all the details of the Westmoreland 
tragedy, which, as you are so far away, can not fail to in- 
terest you. Poor Colonel Westmoreland had been almost a 
stranger to us of late years. He and liis first wife were, at 
one time, my dearest friends, but after her death I saw lit- . 
tie of him, and his second marriage was naturally some- 
what repugnant to my feelings. 

/ “I think it took place before you came to us, and I dare 
say if you heard the story — ^not caring for the persons con- 
cerned, it probably made but a slight impression upon you. 
But now, the particulars are of melancholy significance. 
She — poor woman! one does not wish to speak hardly of 
the dead — was quite a low-born person— a sort of compan- 
ion to the first Mrs. Westmoreland, very handsome, but, I 
fear, always very unprincipled. She was at one time en- 
gaged to Robert Westmoreland, the nephew, who was ac- 
cused of having forged his under’s name, and was disinherit- 
ed and banished in consequence. People say that Colonel 
Westmoreland was in love with the girl — Miss Gryce— dur- 
ing his wife^s life, but this I am very unwilling to believe. 
Certainly he was very much opposed to her engagement 
with his nephew, as well as being bitter and relentless to- 
ward the latter in the affair of the forgery: and he married 
her barely a year after he became a widower. I visited the 
present Mrs. Westmoreland, for I did not wish to make a 
complete breach with my old friend, and I knew nothing 
against her moral character. You may, perhaps, remember 
their spending a few days at Heatherleigh some years ago, 
when you were in the school-room. They went abroad soon 
after that, and only returned to England just before, or 
just after, you sailed — I donT recollect which. We invi ted 
them for our shooting-party the last week in January, and 
they came. I was horrified to see how very much he had 
aged; and his almost senile devotion to her was quite pain- 
ful to witness. She seemed fond, of him; but I can not say 
that I was any more favorably impressed by her than when 
I met her after her marriage. I thought her a hard, hand- 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


295 


some, worldly woman, uninterested in parish matters* and 
ordinary country pursuits; and quite unfitted for the duties, 
if not the pleasures, of her position. She had an artificial 
manner, fascinating to gentlemen, and seemed to crave, for 
excitement — going out with the shooters, playing billiards, 
and apparently never being happy unless she were amused 
or distracted. 

On the third day of their visit the hounds met at As- 
sherton. Both she and Colonel Westmoreland intended to 
follow, and had brought over their own horses. Merci- 
fully, Richard was spared the responsibilit}^ of mounting 
her. That very morning, however, Colonel Westmoreland 
was called to London on business, and she went out with- 
out him. It was a lovely day, and, as Assherton is such a 
pretty meet. I took Lady Brooke and one of the other 
ladies in the wagonette, meaning to see as much as one 
could on wheels. We ^on lost the hounds, and spent our 
morning driving aimles^y along lanes. We had just made 
up our minds to go home when there was a rumor among 
the stragglers of an accident, and one of our grooms gal- 
loped up to tell us that Mrs. Westmoreland had been 
thrown from her horse and killed, and that they had carried 
her into Dobito’s farm. We drove straight there, and 
found Richard, Colonel Slingsby, and several others — all 
looking utterly unnerved. She was not dead, but the case 
was hopeless. They had got a doctor, who was with her 
then. The spine was injured, and she could only live an 
hour or two. Some one went off to telegraph for Colonel 
Westmoreland; but, of course, even if the telegram had 
reached him at once at his club, he could not have come in 
time. 

‘‘ She was in the parlor, laid on a sort of bed they had 
arranged. I went in and took Lady Brooke, who, I 
thought, might be a comfort; and we sent for Mr. Dyke, 
the new clergyman at Assherton. She was quite conscious, 
and when Lady Brooke told her — for I could not — that she 
was dying, took it quietly. All she said was, ‘ I canT feel 
my limbsy and I suppose that my back is broken.^ She 
asked how long she might expect to live, and then lay still 
for a little while. We begged her to tell us if there were 
anything she wished done, or any message delivered to her 
husband. She shook her head and would not speak; but 
we could see that she was in great trouble of mind. When 


296 


THE HEAD STATION. 


Mr. Dyke came, she took no notice of him. He knelt by 
her and prayed extemporaneously. It was most solemn and 
affecting. Presently she said, ‘ I want to see a magis- 
trate.^ 

“ Richard and Colonel Slingsby both came in, and we 
asked if she would like to be alone with either of them. 
Richard said that he would Write down anything she de- 
sired, and leave it to her husband to carry out her wishes. 
She said, ‘ No;^ that she had a confession to make of a 
crime she had committed, for which an innocent person 
had suffered, and that we must all hear it; for she feared 
that if only her husband knew, he might, out of love for 
her, keep the secret, which would be unjust to the person 
who had been wrongfully accused. She said that she was 
glad her husband was not present, and would not know how 
bad she was till after her death; for though she had not 
deserved his love she was deeply grateful for it, and had 
tried to be a true and affectionate wife. Then, as we all 
stood round, she made a deposition, which Richard took 
down> to the effect that it was she who, as Miss Gryce, 
had forged Colonel Westmoreland^s signature, and not his 
nephew Robert; that she had done it to get money to buy 
off a man who knew things in her past life which he threat- 
ened to tell the Westmorelands, and which would have lost 
her their esteem. She had made the check payable to 
Robert Westmoreland or bearer, and had got Robert’s serv- 
ant to cash it for her. When the forgery came put a few 
months later and Robert was accused, he — knowing her to 
be the guilty person and unable to clear himself except by 
denouncing her — had submitted to the disgrace and to his 
uncle’s conditions that he should leave England. I believe 
that he went to Australia. How strange, yet how unlikely, 
if you should ever meet him there! 

‘‘ There are some points of mystery about the affair which 
I don’t suppose will ever be cleared up. Ho one is likely 
to learn now what were the unfortunate woman’s antece- 
dents or true motives — whether she really loved Robert, or 
whether, in view of the first Mrs. Westmoreland’s death, 
she had always aimed at a marriage with Colonel West- 
moreland. At the time the forgery was found out her en- 
gagement with Robert was at an end, and Mrs. Westmore- 
land had just died, but there had been no reconciliation 
between uncle and nephew. It is supposed that she calcu- 


297 


THE Hi;^D STATIOH. 

lated upon this to avoid discovery. Robert was careless 
and extravagant; Colonel Westmoreland, when his nephew 
was in favor, profusely generous, so that, where many 
irregular payments were made, a check not at once 
accounted for might have passed without being closely in- 
quired into. One feels that there may have been more 
under the surface than one has a right to take for granted, 
and that jealousy was probably at ‘the root of Colonel 
AV'estmoreland^’s anger against his nephew in the first in- 
stance and of his implacable attitude in regard to the 
forgery. 

‘^Mrs. Westmoreland died soon after making her con- 
fession. She passed away calmly, and we must hope that 
this act of reparation brought her some peace at last. 

We carried her back to Heatherleigh. By the time 
Colonel Westmoreland arrived, all that we could do for her 
had been done. I never saw a man so completely stunned 
by grief. At first he seemed hardly to realize what had 
happened, and went about almost like a walking statue, 
giving orders mechanically. She was taken to Heatherleigh 
and buried in the family vault. Richard and I went over 
for the funeral, and stayed, not liking to leave Colonel 
Westmoreland. He had as yet asked few questions about 
his wife^s last hours, and those Richard had evaded; but 
when he insisted upon full particulars it was no longer 
possible to shirk the terrible duty, and Richard put into his 
hands the sealed envelope containing Mrs. Westmoreland ^s 
dying coMession, and left him alone. 

“We waited in great anxiety, for we knew that the blow 
would be more fearful than that of her death. He shut 
himself up in the library, refusing to see any one except his 
lawyer, for whom he sent. When the lawyer had gone, he 
gave orders that no one should disturb him. We dared not 
intrude. There was a light in the window all night. The 
next morning, when we knocked repeatedly, no answer 
came. The door was burst open, and he was found in his 
arm-chair dead. He had taken a dose of poison. 

“ Richard brought me home, and then went back for 
the inquest, when of course everything became public. 
Colonel Westmoreland had made a fresh will, a few hours 
before Kis death, leaving all his property to Robert, and 
giving instructions that agents should at once proceed to 
Australia in search of him.^’’ 


^8 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


The vital interest of the letter ended here. 

For a long time Isabel sat with it before her, almost over- 
whelmed by the greatness of her joy. A sort of ecstasy 
seized her, of love, of faith in God, who* had so wonder- 
fully unraveled the tangled skein, of belief in the higher 
capabilities of man. She had so trusted her hero. Deep 
in her heart there had lain such utter love for him, yet so 
hopeless that its realization seemed further than Heaven; 
and now he was proved more heroic than even she had 
dreamed; and the world, which had doubted and maligned 
him, must bow before a height of loyalty, of chivalrous self- 
sacrifice, to which not one man in ten thousand could have 
risen. 

She fancied that between the lines of the letter she could 
read the whole tragic story^ his passionate love, his betrayed 
faith, the bitterness of his position toward his uncle, his 
disgust at life, and disbelief in goodness, which had made 
him almost welcome exile. As if by instinct she realized 
the fierce emotions by which he had been tortured during his 
first years in Australia, the deadness of existence* when the 
flames had burned themselves out, the mood in which he 
had arrived at Doondi. She thought so much of him* that 
at first she was hardly moved by the catastrophe of which 
she had been reading. She could not shed any sympathetic 
tears over the fate of that miserable woman or of the 
broken-hearted old man she had deceived. Isabel turned 
with a shudder from the dark side of the picture to the 
brighter prospect of Braddick — she could only think of him 
by that name — cleared, no longer doomed to a life of hard- 
ship in Australia, but free to return to England, honored, 
rich. And then a girlish scruple arose. He would be rich, 
and if she sent for him — if through her he learned the good 
news — might he not think that it was for his money and 
his position that she cared? She laughed softly to herself. 
No; he knew her better than that. He knew that had he 
willed it she would have been content to share his poverty 
and disgrace. Now he would come to her, and the storm 
and the darkness were over, and she had learned indeed 
that “ Love is faith."’^ 

She lost herself in a girFs hazy, delicious dream bf happy 
union. A maid's entrance aroused her, and, bearing her 
precious letter, she went shyly down-stairs, lingering on 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


299 


her way. - She felt afraid to face the world, which to-day 
was so different from what it had been yesterday. 

The house seemed very silent. Mr. Reay was gone to 
his office, and restless Gretta, nowhere visible, was doubt- 
less with Ferguson receiving or escaping congratulations. 
Isabel thought, with bosom gently heaving, that ere long 
she too might be accepting congratulations. She sighed 
while she smiled, for Gretta's manner was strange and 
Isabel feared she was not happy. 

Practical considerations asserted themselves. Oh, that 
thought could bridge space! Braddick was far away; he 
had left the Doondi cattle. His whereabouts was unknown. 

Out west ” conveyed to Isabel the idea of a trackless 
desert whither letters and newspapers never found their 
way. It might be months before the late Colonel West- 
moreland's agent discovered him — before he heard the news 
of his good fortune. She longed that the tidings should 
reach him through herself; but how? 

She was pondering upon impossible schemes, wondering 
if she could persuade her uncle Clephane to go in search of 
Braddick, wondering if there were telegraph lines out west, 
wondering whether she dare intrust Pat Desmond with so 
delicate a mission. 

The sudden entrance of Sib startled her, and like a flash 
brought the solution of her difficulty. She rose, and in a 
tremble of excitement put her sister's letter in his hand. 
“Read it. Sib, and then you will see," she exclaimed. 
“ You said that you would help me, and I promised to ask 
you if the time ever came. Read that, and you will see." 

Sib took the letter, and she waited while he read, forget- 
ting in her agitation that to him the names of Braddick 
and Westmoreland would have no connection. He was a 
long time going over it, and when he had finished turned 
again to the first sheet, then gazed at her in bewilderment. 

“ I don't quite make it out," he said slowly; “ it seems 
a rum start; and that fellow was a splendid chap to bear 
all that for a woman's sake." 

“ It was splendid. Sib," said Isabel with eyes beaming; 
“ it was like a hero. " 

“ But," Sib went on, in a hesitating way, “ I don't see 
what it has to do with your promise or mine." 

Isabel looked at Sib, a new expression in her eyes. For 
the moment she forgot herseK and Braddick. Something 


300 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


in his face roused a vague fear. He looked strange — 
anxious. 

“ Sib/^ she said, “ I know Robert Westmoreland.'’^ 

Sib did not answer. 

You know him too. He was at Hoondi. He is — Mr. 
Braddick. 

; Involuntarily each turned from the other. The little 
tremor, the softening of Isabel’s voice as she pronounced 
Braddick^’s name, the wave of color that rose even to her 
brow, told Sib everything. His face, too, was betraying. 
He turned very pale: his lips locked grimly, and his lank 
arms gave a nervous twitch. Without uttering a word he 
walked into the back part of the room, and stood before the 
window, as Gretta had done the day before, his eyes fixed 
upon the swaying banana-leaves. 

‘‘ It^s no good,^' he muttered to himself; “ IVe been a 
green idiot. 

The silence was a revelation to Isabel. She nearly laughed 
at first; and then she could have cried. Poor Sib! Kindly 
rough Sib! She did not know how to convey to him her 
distress — how to retract her impulsive appeal. 

“ Sib,^^ she said, ‘‘ you are not angry with me?^^ 

He turned, and took her hands in his, holding them very 
tight. 

‘‘ Angry! What for? I was taken aback for a minute. 
That^s all.^^ He tried to speak cheerily, but his voice 
faltered. 

‘‘ Sib,^^ Isabel continued, plaintively, “ I wouldnT have 
shown you the letter if I hadnT remembered, all of a sud- 
den, when you came in, that you were going north — and I 
remembered, too, what you told me — 

‘‘ That Pd ride overland as far as Cape York to serve 
you, Isabel. And Ifil do it now, if he is not to be got at 
any nearer. 

Oh, Sib! But he has left the cattle. 

“ I know. It wonT be much of a job, though, to 'find 
him, and give him this letter. That’s what you want?” 

“ Oh, Sib!” cried Isabel again, ‘‘ I thought perhaps 
Uncle Jack — or telegraphing — ” 

‘‘ There isn’t any telegraph line beyond Curramilla,” put 
in Sib. 

“ You see, no one knows that he is Robert Westmore- 
land, for certain, except myself. Mr. Gustavus Blaize sus- 


THE HEAD STATION. 


301 


pected it and told Uncle Jack. And I feel as though this 
were his secret, and I had no right to tell it to any one, 
said Isabel, in her palpitating anxiety taking up her thoughts 
confusedly, “ except to you. Sib, for you are so good, and 
I trust you. " 

Sib clasped her hands to tightly that the pressure almost 
made her wince. “ I"m going to be no end of a brother to 
you,^"' he said, with his nervous Australian laugh. “ That^s 
all I^m good for. 

“ Sib, you are good for everything; you are the best and 
kindest of brothers.-’^ 

‘‘ I J1 bring him back,^^ said Sib, “ and, till he comes, 
no one shall know anything about it but you and 1. I^^ll 
start by the steamer on Tuesday, Isabel. 


CHAPTER XLVL 

THE EKD OF LAHCE MUEGATROYD. 

At this time one of Hester^s saddest, and yet tenderest, 
consolations, lay in her frequent visits to the cave above 
the river, which was consecrated to the memory of her lost 
love. She would sit there for hours, living again in im- 
agination through long summer afternoons of feverish de- 
light, mentally reviewing scenes and episodes in the past, 
and all the dear fervid words, and the caresses which had 
been so perilously sweet. Then she would tell herself that, 
had they been less human, had they held their ideal sacred, 
as in the early time, the love-friendship, untainted by 
grosser passion, might have remained to them both, a 
precious possession. Woman-like, she would analyze the 
position, and question herself upon the causes of failure, 
the whys and wherefores of the catastrophe and separation. 
Must the ideal and the actual be always in deadly opposition 
— soul-love an impossibility — because of the clinging of pas- 
sionate body, full of throbbing desire, which made perfect 
union, or wrench asunder the only alternatives? ‘‘We 
loved each other, we were happy for a little while; but it 
did not last.^^ It is such a short story, so common that 
almost every man and woman might tell it, and yet it is 
an epitome of the most imperious wants, the keenest woes, 
of humanity! “ Nothing lasts in life,^^ thought poor Hes- 


303 


THE HEAD STATION. 


ter, in her bitterness, except the mistakes; and they go 
on forever/^ 

Many a battle with her instincts of right did she fight in 
that lonely cave. Many times was she tempted to write 
the line which should recall Durnford and challenge Fate. 
She loved him. She belonged to him. Her heart echoed 
his own daring cry — 

“ And hath not love like mine the right to break 
The whole world’s laws in sunder lor thy sake? 

The right to claim thee, own thee before all? 

There is no truth in heaven, no truth in song, 

No truth in God, if this sweet thing be wrong.” 

With, the sense of his presence, of his haunting eyes, of 
his embracing arms, so vivid as to be at times almost mad- 
dening, duty became a worn-out phrase and wifehood a mere 
name without meaning. Then as she looked down upon 
the little knoll and the Childs’s grave and remembered her 
husband in hiding among the rocks, remembered the coarse 
home-truths he had uttered and the revulsion of feeling 
they had produced, the influences which upon that 
memorable occasion had overborne her love, operated anew 
and held her from committing herself irrevocably. 

She was returning at dusk one day from her solitary ex- 
pedition — it was the very day upon which Isabel had re- 
ceived her letter from England — when the sight of two 
horsemen carrying arms, and accompanied by a black boy, 
whom she recognized as their own Combo, startled her, 
and caused her to quicken her steps. She was walking by 
the river. Just where the blacks^ camp used to be — it had 
been moved since King Com engines banishment — and they 
were coming from the Head Station. After crossing, they 
turned in the opposite direction to her own, and were al- 
most out of sight when she reached the bank. A vague 
fear smote her that the men, although they were in plain 
clothes, belonged to the police force; and, if so, what could- 
be their object? Was it possible that they had gained an 
inkling of Murgatroyd^’s place of refuge; or were they 
merely in search of some suspicious character lurking on 
the borders? Many such passed both by Doondi and 
Tieryboo, and Captain Clephane^s office as magistrate was 
no sinecure. 

There were very few people on the Head Station Just 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


303 


now. Sib was in Leichardfc^s Town, and only the tutor 
and the boys occupied the Bachelors^ Quarters. In the 
house Mrs. Blaize kept Hester company. 

The old lady came fluttering down the steps as Hester 
approached the court-yard. She had a tin of Indian corn 
in her hand, aiid was scattering it among the chickens 
which surrounded the dairy, while at the same time, she 
impressed the eighth commandment upon two pickaninnies 
whom she had caught plundering a bend’s nest. 

‘‘Baal you take eggs. Suppose you take eggs, debbil, 
debbil cobbou coola along a you,” she was saying — ^but 
broke short at sight of her niece. 

“ Dear heart, Hester I'’ she cried; “ what do you think 
has happened? Macnab has been here with a trooper — and 
there^s a whole camp of them down the river. 

Hester turned very white. She came hurriedly forward, 
and, putting her arm within that of Mrs. Blaize, turned her 
back toward the house. 

“ I saw them,^^ she said, slowly, “ crossing the river. 

Aunt J udith seated herself upon the edge of the veranda. 
“ My dear,^^ she said, “ I feel just as if I were back at 
Oreti Downs, and the place under siege by the blacks. 
Only it^s worse than blacks this time. It^s bushrangers. 
We might have been bailed up any day. 

Hester^’s heart gave a wild bound. Dor a minute or more 
she did not speak. An unnatural excitement seized her — 
a sense of almost exultation which was horrible. The earth 
seemed to reel. She burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. 

“ Indeed, and I assure you that I^m perfetly serious,^^ 
said Mrs. Blaize. “ What do you think, now, of Captain 
Rainbow being hidden from the police — up in a cave at the 
back of Comongin?” 

“ Who told you this?’^ asked Hester, in a low quick tone. 

“ Macnab himself. They caught one of the band who 
stuck up a shepherd on Gin-Gin, and he turned evidence 
against his captain. ” 

“ What did they come here for, then?” asked Hester, 
still speaking rapidly, and in that repressed voice which 
was a shield to her agitation. “ Have they made him a 
prisoner? Aunt Judith, tell me everything.^’ 

Mrs. Blaize looked up, and was startled by the expression 
of Hester’s face. 

“ Dear heart!” said she; “ there’s nothing to be nervous 


304 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


about now, Hester; though, if you had known it when you 
were out picnicking — Just to think of Isabel Gauntlett, 
fresh out from England, and so near a nest of bushrangers!^^ 
Oh, what does that matter?^'’ cried Hester, fiercely. 

Have they found Captain Eainbow?^^ 

“ I expect theyJl have found him by this time to-mor- 
row,^'’ said Mrs. Blaize. “ They know that he is close to 
Comongin water-fall; but the man who informed could not 
tell them the exact spot. They came here for a black boy 
who knew the country; and they took Combo. 

“ Combo will not go beyond the water-fall,'’^ exclaimed 
^ Hester, breathlessly, as if to herself. ‘‘He is afraid of 
. Puyume.^'’ She paced the gravel-path twice, halting oppo- 
site Mrs. Blaize. “It’s not moonlight, now,'’'’ she said ab- 
ruptly. 

What are you thinking of, Hester? Oh, they won'’t 
go there to-night. I expect theyTl camp at the foot of the 
range/'’ 

The dressing-bell rang; Mrs. Blaize got up, shaking her 
curls ruefully. “IPs horrible to think of a poor creature’s 
camp being sneaked unawares to him, and a sinner brought 
out to judgment. They say he shot a man in Gippsland, 
and he is certain to be hanged.'” 

Hester went to her room, and dressed herself for dinner, 
smoothing her hair, and arranging the little cap to which 
she had lately taken, with more care than was usual to her. 
Outwardly she was quite calm. Only when she looked in 
the glass, something she saw in her face seemed to shock 
her; for she started back, and flmig herself on the foot of 
the bed, her body crouched, her eyes staring wildly into 
space. 

“ He is certain to be hanged!” she said aloud; “and I 
shall be free.” 

She got up again, and walked the little room with frenzied 
steps like a caged tigress. She paused before her writing- 
table. There was a photograph of Hurnford upon it — a 
rough thing taken at Wyeroo. Catching it up she pressed 
it passionately to her lips. “ Oh, my love! my love!” she 
cried. Then she walked again, her eyes fixed on vacancy. 
“ I can’t do anything,” she said, in a hard whisper. “ I 
would have saved him. God knows that! God knows I 
don’t want to be bad!” 

The second bell rang. She went to the other wing, and 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


305 


they all sat down to their evening meal. The German tutor 
and the boys were there, and the talk as was natural, ran 
upon the police and upon Captain Rainbow. Hester said 
scarcely a word. She sat like one dazed. Mrs. Blaize 
made a poor pretense of eating, constantly putting down 
her knife and fork and giving vent to a deep sigh. ‘‘ My 
heart is full of that poor sinner, said she. “ Tm a big 
sinner myself, I suppose, for I am just foolish over the err- 
insf and the unfortunate. And to think that, if IM had my 
way and been the mother of a brawling roistering set of 
brats, one of them might have turned bushranger and got 
hanged. 

Hester leaned suddenly forward. “ Joe,^^ she said, “ how 
long does it take for the bark to grow on a tree that has 
been blazed?^ ^ 

The boy looked at her in surprise. “ My word, Hester, 
you are a shingle short! What has that got to do with Cap- 
tain Rainbow.^^^ 

Never mind. How long?^^ 

“ Depends on the sort of tree! Iron bark never grows. 
You wouldnT notice a bottle-tree after a month or two. 
There! I believe you are thinking of our blazed track 
through the scrub. Oh! Hester, what a lark if we had 
spotted Combo^s cave, and stalked Captain Rainbow !^^ 

Hester rose from the table. She went out into the gar- 
den. There was no moon, but the sky was clear, and the 
stars shone brightly.'’ The outline of Mount Comongin 
was as distinct as though it were day. She could fancy her- 
self released from the trammels of flesh, hovering, a white- 
winged messenger of warning, over the rock-encircled dell 
where the doomed man lay. 

All the evening she moved restlessly between the lagoon 
and the orange-trees. No one could have guessed at the 
tumult within her. It was as though fiends were tearing 
her — as though her soul were the stake for which her im- 
pulses were warring. Joe at the piano was strumming 
waltzes which sounded like the mocking merriment of 
imps. Then Billy, the black boy, came in to speak to Mark 
about getting up horses for the morrow, and something was 
said about Brunette, Gretta’s mare, which was to be penned 
in the stock-yard that night in readiness to be shod the 
first thing in the morning, Hester heard the colloquy; and, 
somehow, the fact that Brunette, fleetest and surest-footed 


306 


THE HEAD STATION. 


of the horses at Doondi, would be in the yard that night, 
impressed itsalf upon her brain as of the utmost importance. 
She heard the black boy^s ‘‘ Good-night, Massa Mark, 
mine sit down along a camp. Mine murra make haste to- 
morrow morning. Then there was a little fuss as to the 
hour of breakfast, and the tutor and the boys went back to 
the Bachelors^ Quarters. 

Hester re-entered the sitting-room where Aunt Judith 
had lighted the candles. The old lady kissed her with un- 
wonted tenderness, and mentally reproached herself for 
having, by her compassionate interest in Captain Eainbow, 
reawakened in Hester ^s mind memories of her unfortunate 
husband — also a transgressor against the laws. But -it never 
occurred to simple Aunt Judith that Lance Murgatroyd 
and Captain Eainbow were one and the same. 

‘‘ Such is life, waiting, waiting she murmured, 
though it was not directly evident to what she referred. 
‘‘ Go and lay yourself down, the kind soul went on. And 
may the dear Lord give thee sweet sleep. Say your pray- 
ers, my child, and put in a word for the forsaken sinners. 
Eor love and pity are our mission; and it^s bad for the man 
when he hasnT a womaji to put up a petition for him. 
That^s against nature and religion, for, if self is man^s 
weakess, unselfishness should be woman^s strength. 

The lights were out at the Head Station except a solitary 
candle in Hester^s chamber. Across the river the native 
dog howled eerily, and the night-birds wailed at intervals; 
but in the house and the Bachelors^ Quarters there was si- 
lence. 

It was midnight. Hester^s light was extinguished. A 
French window opened very softly, and she herself stepped 
forth from the veranda into the garden. She was dressed in 
her habit and wore a black hat which shaded her face; a 
veil was tied round it beneath her chin, and in her hand she 
carried an un lighted candle and matches. She stood still 
for a moment with her face uplifted to heaven. The star- 
light showed how pale it was, but the eyes were clear and 
the lips steadfast. 

With Judith Blaize^s injunction ringing in her ears she 
had gone to her room, and kneeling by her bedside, after 
she was undressed, had begun in a mechanical way to say 
her prayers. 

She had repeated the Lord’s Prayer coldly, hardly. There 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


307 


nad been a long pause. She kneeled with her head buried 
in her hands, silent, stony, hopeless. After a while her 
thoughts instinctively reverted to the formula of her child- 
hood ; and, as so often happens in the case of a woman 
passing through an emotional crisis, the unconscious 
touching of some simple spring in memory let loose a flood 
of associations, and all the tenderest sympathies of her 
womanhood welled up and softened her flinty mood. Re- 
membrances of her dead mother anfl. of her dead child 
swept over her. She thought of the homely code of love 
and duty which her mother had practiced in her hard Aus- 
tralian life. She thought of how she in her turn had 
guarded her child^s cradle ^with aspirations after clean, 
wholesome, honest living; how she had snatched the little 
thing from possibility of contamination; how, afterward, 
the woman in her coming uppermost, she had trained the 
baby lips to say, even when the hearing wrung her heart, 
‘‘ God bless little Maggie's father and make him good. " 

She repeated the words aloud. God bless little Mag- 
gie's father, and make him good. 

Pure and evil angels fought within her. She gave a 
smothered cry, and her body writhed under a storm of deep- 
drawn sobs. The revulsion was terrible. It was a long 
time before she grew calm. Then, her resolve was taken. 
A sort of ecstasy of self-sacrifice possessed her. Her frame 
thrilled. She felt drawn by an irresistible power. She 
would yield herself to its guidance. She would save her 
child's father. 

She rose and dressed herself again, putting on her habit, 
then she went out into the court-yard. Going toward the 
middle wing she entered Mr. Reay's ofiice. She lighted her 
candle, and, after searching in a remote receptacle for the 
key, opened a safe where the station-ledgers lay, and 
where cash taken from travelers for stores was kept. There 
was never much, as money was always sent at once to 
Leichardt's Town; but to-night Fate seemed propitious, for 
that very day four five-pound notes had been paid in for 
horses bought on an emergency by a passer-by. 

Hester stuffed the notes into the breast of her habit; 
then, relocking the safe, she blew out her light and went 
forth, just stopping to take down a lady's spur wliich hung 
in the passage. 

She walked rapidly toward the stock-yard, pausing at a 


308 


THE HEAD STATION. 


little back humpey close to the milking-yard, usually occu- 
pied by the two black boys, Combo and Billy, and Maafu. 

The calves whinnied in their pen as she approached, and 
an unhappy mother in the paddock beyond set up an an- 
swering call. Hester pushed open the door of the hut, and 
let in the starlight upon the sleepers, who, wrapped in 
their blankets, were stretched on the earthen floor. Maafu, 
distinguishable by his tow-colored mop of hair, lay with his 
back to her nearest flie wall. Heavy and phlegmatic, he 
made no sound or movement as the door creaked on its 
hinges; but Billy, alert as quick-silver, was sitting up in a 
moment, and ejaculated: ‘‘ Hester! Budgery youy’ “ Baal 
woolla,'’'’ said Hester. “ BaaL 



back, motioning him toward 


cat Billy leaped noiselessly out of the hut, and closed the 
door upon the unconscious Maafu. Hester led him to the 
stock-yard, and, speaking in the aboriginal dialect, bade 
him put a side-saddle upon Brunette, then bring out Hector 
— a thorough-bred which was always kept stabled, mount 
the latter animal himself, and escort her to the back of 
Little Comongin. 

Silent obedience is not an aboriginal virtue. Billy stared 
aghast, and demanded reasons for this wild night excur- 
sion. Hester asked him if he knew where Combo had gone.' 

I believe that fellow go with policeman, look out man- 
dowie along a Captain Eainbow,^^ returned Billy. 

Then Hester briefly explained that Captain Eainbow 
was a brother belonging to her; that the policemen were 
going to sneak his camp in the morning, and take him to 
jail; that she knew where “ that fellow sit down — in a 
cave close to Comongin waterfall, where they had all pic- 
nicked on New-year's-day; that she meant to ride there 
that night, with Billy to show her the track, and warn 
Captain Eainbow, so that he might run away before the 
police and Combo could find his hiding-place. 

Billy's eyes sparkled in the starlight. The out-witting of 
black or white is a feat which commends itself to the nat- 
ive cunning and love of mischief. In a twinkling he com- 
prehended the situation. “Budgery yousar" — which is 
the blacks' equivalent to “ I will do what I can " — said he 
emphatically, below his breath. He stole into the stable 
and saddled Hector; then coaxed Brunette out of the yard, 
and, ere many minutes, they were both mounted and can- 


THE HEAD STATIOK. 


309 


tering across the flat to the river. Soon they were out of 
hearing of the Head Station. Their way lay between the 
river and the scrub, Oomongin looming always ahead. On 
this flat ground they were aWe to proceed at a rapid pace; 
but even here the track was encumbered with broken tim- 
ber, and the plains covered with the long-bladed grass rid- 
dled with paddymelon holes, so that the utmost circum- 
spection was needed. Thus, Hester^s senses on the alert, 
and her strained nerves, did not permit her thoughts to 
travel beyond her immediate goal. 

Her pulses quivered with excitement. The night air 
played upon her face. The labyrinth of trees, some white- 
barked and spectral, the outlines of scrub and mountains, the 
strange sensation of moving on through some unreal land- 
scape, made her feel as though she were dreaming vividly. 

Billy rode ahead, his spirits finding vent in a wild cor- 
roboree air which he chanted in subdued tones, now and 
then breaking out in a mysterious but expressive ejaculation 
or a warning Look out, sar,"*^ to Hester when some fallen 
log or unex]3ected gully threatened danger. 

The horses were fresh, and Brunette needed no touch of 
spur. Except for the dingoes^ howls and the tramp of the 
horses'’ feet and rustle of grass and leaves as they brushed 
by, the silence was profound. In the hour after midnight 
curlews had ceased wailing, and the day-birds would not 
^awaken yet. How the flat country narrowed, the track 
disappeared, and they were mounting the ridges, among 
uncouth spiked grass-trees, naked red-gums, and sparse 
wattle. 

Tliey could only crawl. The horses trod warily, and Hes- 
ter recollected that Brunette was unshod. 

The need to spare her horse lulled memory, which had 
begun to sting anew, as some features of the country re- 
called the New-year^s expedition, the rapture, the shame, 
and agony which had been crowded into it. 

They were nearing the scrub. The stars became hidden 
by trees overhead. They seemed groping their way in dark- 
ness, and they scarcely dared speak. Every now and then 
Billyh’s glistening eyes would turn back upon her, and he 
would raise his arm warningly, for it was just here that 
they suspected the police of camping for the night. 

No trace however was to be seen, and they moved on cau- 
tiously and with greater difficulty. Brunette wincing at 


310 


THE HEAD STATION* 


every step. Oh, the interminable length of that "passage 
through the scrub! What they could have ridden in an 
hour in daylight took three hours now. The horses stum- 
bled over stones and dangerous pitfalls. Creepers caught 
at Hester^s habit and tore her hands. Twice she shrieked 
outright as something cold touched her cheek — it was only 
a cluster of berries, hut the gloom seemed full of horrors 
and of uncanny reptiles. When they got out of the scrub 
the dawn had broken, the birds and insects were awake, the 
soft, dewy haze made nature beautiful, and they could see 
close the scarred precipice of Comongin, but the ravine was 
still three miles distant, and Brunette was dead lame. 

The mare turned back beseeching eyes as Hester spurred 
her onward. ‘‘ Oh, Brunette,'’^ cried the wretched woman 
aloud in her desperation, “it’s life or death! Go on! go 
on V ’ every sound she heard behind was, she fancied, the 
tread of the troopers’ horses; but when they came at last to 
the edge of the ravine, within sight of the little cleared spot 
where they had left their horses upon the previous occasion, 
Hester uttered one whispering cry, and ■ Billy turned as 
though he had been shot; not till they had gained the shel- 
ter of a belt of brigalow did they dare to raise their breath- 
ing. Both had seen the remains of a camp-fire and two 
horses hobbled in the clearing, and they knew that the 
troopers were before them. 

The crisis was too momentous for conference or for sign 
of despair. Hester leaped down. With her own hands 
she snatched the hobbles from Billy’s saddle and put them 
round the mare’s le^. They tied the two horses securely 
lo gum-trees; then Hester seized the shrinking black and 
led him forward, wildly crying that she would “ pialla ” 
the Great Spirit, so that no evil should befall him. Like a 
mad thing she sprung down the steep descent, clinging to 
rocks and saplings, while Billy, more agile than she, swung 
himself before, and many a time saved her from a perilous 
fall. 

Now they were in the bed of the ravine, the booming 
water-fall, swelled by late rains, had turned the trickling 
stream into a foaming torrent. Not for an instant did Hes- 
ter pause. She made for the spot where the current seemed 
weaker and the foam indicated a less depth, and plunged 
bravely in. She had lifted her habit to her waist. The 
force of the water almost bore her down, but she was only 


THE HEAD STATIOH. 


311 


wetted to her knees; and, breasting the stream sideways, 
she reached the opposite side, and clambered np the shelv- 
ing hank which dropped down from the dense scrub be- 
yond. 

She looked for the black boy. He had not followed; she 
saw him crouching • against the rocks opposite, and she 
knew that she must depend upon herself. 

She took ont her compass, and stood for a minute trying 
to take her bearings and to recollect the exact spot at which 
she and Hurnford had branched off. Guiding herself to 
the besc of her ability, she pierced the gloomy maze, search- 
ing her memory for landmarks, and fancying every here 
and there that she perceived the trace of blazing upon some 
of the trees. She wandered on, losing the clews, finding 
them again — again astray. Hours or minutes might have 
passed. She could not tell. As she approached a clear- 
ing, she saw in agony that the sun^s rays were making a 
bright net-work upon the ground. 

Oh, God! Here were new blaze-marks; and here, upon 
a bottle-tree — the bark unhealed — that old trace of I) urn- 
ford'’ s tomahawk! And here again, above, a new bleeding 
wound — 

Suddenly a shot echoed through the scrub — another — one 
more! Then silence. Hester fiew; she heard the faint 
sound of voices and of a scuffle. The wall of rock was be- 
fore her. As she reached the entrance to the dell, the 
sounds seemed to cease. Obeying the uncontrollable influ- 
ence which impelled her, she rushed through the narrow 
opening! Close to the precipice where she and Hurnford 
had sat a group of men stood. They seemed to be bending 
over a prostrate form. 

Hester’s cry, which rose like that of a wounded animal, 
made them start aside and turn in consternation and horror 
toward the woman — breathless, haggard, with hat thrown 
back from her pale face and frenzied eyes, with torn, sod- 
dened garments and bleeding hands — who appeared as it 
were miraculously in their midst. 

Ho one spoke; but Lance Murgatroyd — the blood welling 
from his breast — raised himself and half stretched out his 
arm. He knew her. 

She flung herself upon the ground by his side. ‘‘ Lance!” 
she cried, I heard last night— and I rode through the 


312 


THE HEAD STATION. 


bush. I could not be a wicked woman. I wanted to save 
you — and it^s too later 

A strange smile came over Murgatroyd’s face, refining 
its coarseness and illumining his glazed eyes fixed upon 
her with an expression of tenderness and joy. 

You wanted to save me!^^ he repeated; and his tones, 
deep and sweet, and reckless as she remembered them, 
thrilled her nerves again. You didn^t go after all with 
that chap? Good, old girl — His voice broke. “ I 
knew you^d run straight. And this is a good job over — 

‘‘ I did it myself,'’^ he said to her after a pause. ‘‘ They 
sneaked the camp, or it •’ud have been a fair fight. I 
wasnT in the cave — I could have held that. I said I^d 
never die a dog^s death while I^d a revolver and a charge 
left. It^s a good job for you, Hester. But Fm glad — 
I^m glad, old girl, that you ran straight. 

Does the first-best ever fall to the lot of human 
beings? As Ferguson^s wife, Gretta sometimes asks herself 
the question. Perhaps so also do others of the personages 
in this story. There must always be shadows and blurred 
outlines. Dreams of romance can never be realized in ab- 
solute brightness and perfection. Nevertheless, Gretta is 
happy, and she can hear of the devotion to each other of 
Wyatt and Hermione without a pang. Bertram married 
his old love, and they remained in Leichardk’s Land, while 
James Fergusoii and Gretta were in Europe, and till ill 
health obliged General Baldock to resign his post. Upon 
the return of his partner, Bertram Wyatt sold out of Gun- 
dalunda, and he and Hermione are now living in England. 
But Gretta lines are cast in Australia. 


THE END. 


GLOSSARY OF AUSTRALIAN NATIVE 
WORDS AND EXPRESSIONS. 


Badl . 
Budgery 
Bong . 
Cobbon 
Cobra . 

Cdold . 
Daloopil 
Euroka 
Lubra 
Marra 
Murra 
Mumkull 
Myall . 
Mandowie 
Look out ma 
Nangry 
Pialla 
Pidney 
Woolld 
Waddy 
ToM . 

Tan . 


ndm 


. No 

. Yes, good 
. Dead 
. Big, plenty 
. Head 
. Angiy 
. Pistol 
. Sun 

. Young blackwoman 
. Take 
. Much 
. Kill 
. Wild 
. Feet 
Die To track 
. To camp, stay 
. To tell 

. Know, understand 
. To speak 
. Stick 
. Yes 
. Go away. 


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529 The Doctor’s Wife 20 

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557 To the Bitter End 20 

559 Taken at the Flood 20 

560 Asphodel 20- 

561 Just as I am; or, A Living Lie 20 

567 Dead Men’s Shoes 20 

570 John Marchmont's Legacy. ... 20 
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92 Lord Lynne’s Choice 10 

148 Thorns and Orange-Blossoms.. 10 

190 Romance of a Black Veil 10 

220 W^hich Loved Him Best? 10 

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249 “ Prince Charlie’s Daughter ” . . 10 

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254‘The Wife’s Secret, and Fair 

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283 The Sin of a Lifetime 10 

287 At War With Herself 10 

288 From Gloom to Sunlight 10 

291 Love’s Warfare 10 

292 A Golden Heart 10 

293 The Shadow of a Sin 10 

294 Hilda , 10 

295 A Woman’s War 10 

296 A Rose in Thorns 10 

297 Hilary’s Folly 10 

299 The Fatal Lilies, and A Bride 

from the Sea 10 

300 A Gilded Sin, and A Bridge of 

Love 10 

303 Ingledew House, and More Bit- 
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308 Beyond Pardon 20 

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385 The Headsman ; or. The Ab- 

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394 The Bravo 20 

397' Lionel Lincoln; or. The Leag- 
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131 Our Mutual Friend. (2d half).. 

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152 The Uncommercial Traveler. .. 

168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens 

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698 A Life’s Atonement .20 

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351 The House on the Moor 


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Other Tales 10 

514 The Mystery of Jessy Page, and 

Other Tales 10 

610 The Story of Dorothy Grape, 
and Other Tales 10 

Charlotte M. Yonge’s Works. 

247 The Armourer’s Prentices 10 

275 The Three Brides 10 

535 Henrietta’s Wish; or. Domi- 
neering 10 

563 The Two Sides of the Shield 20 

640 Nuttie’s Father 20 

665 The Dove in the Eagle’s Nest.. 20 

666 My Young Alcides: A Faded 

• Photograph 20 

739 The Caged Lion 20 

742 Love and Life 20 

7S3 Chantry House 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls ; or. The 
White and Black Ribaumont. 

First half 20'~ 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls ; or. The 
White and Black Ribaumont. 

Second half 20-^ 

800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Spinster. 

First half 20 

800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Spinster. 
Second half 20 

Miscellaneous. 

53 The Story of Ida. Francesca. . 10 
61 Charlotte Temple. Mrs. Row- 

son 10 

99 Barbara’s History. Amelia B. 
Edwards 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Pocket Edition. 


Miscellaneous— Continued. 

103 Rose Fleming. Dora Russell . . 10 
105 A Noble Wife. John Saunders 20 


111 The Little School-master Mark. 

J. H. Shorthouse 10 

112 The Waters of Marah. John 

Hill 20 

113 Mrs. Carr’s Companion. M. G. 

Wightwick 10 

114 Some of Our Girls. Mrs. C. J. 

Eiloart 20 

115 Diamond Cut Diamond. T. 

Adolphus Trollope 10 

120 Tom Brown’s School Days at 

Rugby. Thomas Hughes 20 

122 lone Stewart.' Mrs. E. Lynn 

Linton 20 

127 Adri^Bright. Mrs. Caddy 20 

149 The Captain’s Daughter. From 

the Russian of Pushkin 10 

151 The Ducie Diamonds. C. Blath- 

erwick 10 

156 “For a Dream’s Sake.” Mrs. 

Herbert Martin 20 

158 The Starling. Norman Mac- 
leod, D.D 10 

160 Her Gentle Deeds. Sarah Tyt- 

ler 10 

161 The Lady of Lyons. Founded 

on the Play of that title by 

Lord Lytton 10 

163 Winifred Power. Joyce Dar- 
rell 20 

170 A Great Treason. Mary Hop- 

pus 30 

174 Under a Ban. Mrs. Lodge 20 

176 An April Day. Philippa Prit- 

tie Jephson 10 

178 More Leaves from the Journal 
of a Life in the Highlands. 

Queen Victoria 10 

182 The Millionaire 20 

185 Dita. Lady Margaret Majendie 10 
187 The Midnight Sun. Fredrika 

Bremer TO 

198 A Husband’s Story 10 

203 John Bull and His Island. Max 
O’Rell 10 


218 Agnes Sorel. G. P. R. James. . 20 

219 Lady Clare : or, The Master of 

the Forges. Georges Ohnet 10 
242 The Two Orphans. D’Ennery. 10 
253 The Amazon. Carl Vos'maer . . 10 
257 Beyond Recall. Adeline Ser- 


geant 10 

266 The Water-Babies. Rev. Chas. 

Kingsley 10 

274 Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, 
Princess of Great Britain and 
Ireland. Biographical Sketch 

and Letters 10 

279 Little Goldie : A Story of Wom- 
an’s Love. Mrs. Sumner Hay- 
den 20 

285 The Gambler’s Wife 20 

289 John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 
True Light. A “ Brutal Sax- 
on ” 10 


311 Two Years Before, the Mast. R. 

H. Dana, Jr 20 

323 A Willful Maid 20 

329 The Polish Jew. (Translated 

from the French by Caroline 
A. Merighi.) Erckmann-Chat- 
rian 10 

330 May Blossom ; or. Between Two 

Loves. Margaret Lee 20 

334 A Marriage of Convenience. 

Harriett Jay 10 

335 The White Witch 20 

340 Under Which King? Compton 

Reade 20 

341 Madolin Rivers; or, The Ldttle 

Beauty of Red Oak Seminary. 

Laura Jean Libbey 20 

347 As Avon Flows. Henry Scott 

Vince 20 

350 Diana of the Crossways. George 

Meredith 10 

352 At Any Cost. Edward Garrett. 10 
354 The Lottery of Life. A Story 
of New York Twenty Years 
Ago. John Brougham 20 


355 The Princess Dagomar of Po- 

land. Heinrich Felbermann. 10 

356 A Good Hater. Frederick Boyle 20 
365 George Christy ; or. The Fort- 
unes of a Minstrel. Tony 


Pastor 20 

366 The Mysterious Hunter; or, 
The Man of Death. Capt. L. 

C. Carleton 20 

369 Miss Bretherton. Mrs. Hum- 
phry Ward 10 

374 The Dead Man’s Secret. Dr. 
Jupiter Paeon 20 

381 The Red Cardinal. Frances 

Elliot 10 

382 Three Sisters. Elsa D’Esterre- 

Keeling 10 

383 Introduced to Society. Hamil- 

ton Aid6 10 

387 The Secret of the Cliffs. Char- 
lotte French 20 

389 Ichabod. A Portrait. Bertha 

Thomas 10 

399 Miss Brov/n. Vernon Lee 20 

403 An English Squire. C. R. Cole- 
ridge 20 

406 The Merchant’s Clerk. Samuel 

Warren 10 

407 Tylney Hall. Thomas Hood ... 20 
426 Venus’s Doves. Ida Ashworth 

Taylor 20 

430 A Bitter Reckoning. Author 

of “By Crooked Paths ” 10 

435 Klytia : A Story of Heidelberg 

Castle. George Taylor 20 

436 Stella. Fanny Lewald 20 

441 A Sea Change. Flora L. Shaw. 20 

442 Ranthorpe. George Henry 

Lewes 20 

443 The Bachelor of the Albany... 10 
457 The Russians at the Gates of 

Herat. Charles Marvin 10 


THE SEASIDE LIBRAUY. -Pocket Edition, 


458 A Week of Passion; or, The 
Dilemma of Mr. George Bar- 


ton the Younger. Edward 

Jenkins 30 

468 The Fortunes, Good and Bad, 
of a Sewing-Girl. Charlotte 

M. Stanley 10 

474 Serapis. An Historical Novel. 

George Ebers 20 

479 Louisa. Katharine S. Macquoid 20 


483 Betwixt My Love and Me. By 
author of “ A Golden Bar ”... 10 
485 Tinted Vapours. J. Maclaren 


Cobban 10 

491 Society in London. A Foreign 

Resident 10 

493 Colonel Enderby’s Wife. Lucas 

501 Mr. Butler’s Ward. F. Mabel 
Robinson 20 

504 Curly : An Actor’s Story. John 

Coleman 10 

505 The Society of London. Count 

Paul Vasili 10 

510 A Mad Love. Author of “ Lover 

and Lord” 10 

512 The Waters of Hercules 20 

518 The Hidden Sin ^ 

519 James Gordon’s Wife 20 

536 Madame De Presnel. E. Fran- 
ces Poynter 20 

532 Arden Court. Barbara Graham 20 

5.33 Hazel Kirke. Marie Walsh 20 

536 Dissolving Views. Mrs. Andrew 
Lang 10 

545 Vida’s Story. By the author of 

“ Guilty Without Crime ” 10 

546 Mrs. Keith’s Crime. A Novel . . 10 
571 Paul Crew’s Story. Alice Co- 

mynsCarr 10 

575 The Finger of Fate. Captain 
Mayne Reid 20 

581 The Betrothed. (I Promessi 

Sf)Osi.) Allessandro Manzoni 20 

582 Lucia, Hugh and Another. Mrs. 

J. H. Needell 20 

.583 Victory Deane. Cecil Griffith . . 20 

584 Mixed Motives 10 

599 Lancelot Ward, M.P. George 

Temple 10 

612 My Wife’s Niece. By the author 

of “ Dr. Edith Romney ” 20 

634 Primus in Indis. M. J. Colqu- 

houn 10 

628 Wedded Hands. By the author 

of Lady’s Folly ” 20 

634 The Unforeseen. Alice O’Han- 
lon 20 

641 The Rabbi’s Spell. Stuart C. 
Cumberland 10 

643 The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey 

Crayon, Gent. Washington 
Irving 20 

644 A Girton Girl. Mrs. Annie Ed- 

wards 20 

652 The Lady with the Rubies. E. 

Marlitt 20 

654 “ Us.” An Old-fashioned Story. 
Mrs. Molesworth 10 


662 The Mystery of Allan Grale. 
Isabella Fy-vie Mayo 20 

668 Half-Way. An Anglo-French 

Romance 20 

669 The Philosophy of Whist. 

William Pole 20 

675 Mrs. Dymond. Miss Thackeray 20 
681 A Singer’s Story. May Laffan. 10 

683 The Bachelor Vicar of New- 

forth. Mrs. J. Harcourt-Roe. 20 

684 Last Days at Apswich 10 

692 The Mikado, and Other Comic 

Operas. Written by W. S. 
Gilbert. Composed by Arthur 
Sullivan 20 

705 The Woman I Loved, and the 

Woman Who Loved Me. Isa 
Blagden 10 

706 A Crimson Stain. Annie Brad- 

shaw 10 

712 For Maimie’s Sake. Grant 
Allen 20 

718 Unfairly Won. Mrs. Power 

O’Donoghue 20 

719 Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. 

Lord Bj^ron 10 

723 Mauleverer’s Millions. T. We- 
myss Reid 20 

735 My Ten Years’ Imprisonment. 

Silvio Pellico 10 

730 The Autobiography of Benja- 

min Franklin 10 

731 The Bayou Bride. Mrs. Mary E. 

Br3'an 20 

735 Until the Day Breaks. Emily 

Spender 20 

738 In the Golden Days. Edna 
Lyall 20 

748 Hurrish: A Study. By the 

Hon. Emily Lawless 20 

749 Lord Vanecourt’s Daughter. 

Mabel Colli ns 20 


750 An Old Story of My Farming 


Days. Fritz Reuter. 1st half 20 
750 An Old Story of My Farming 
Days. Fritz Reuter. 2d half 20 
752 Jackanapes, and Other Stories. 
Juliana Horatia Ewing 10 

754 How to be Happy Though Mar- 

ried. By^ a Graduate in the 
University of Matrimony 20 

755 Margery Daw 20 

756 The Strange Adventures of Cap- 

tain Dangerous. A Narrative 
in Plain English. Attempted 
by George Augustus Sala — 20 

757 Love’s Martyr. Laurence Alma 

Tadema 10 

759 In Shallow Waters. Annie Ar- 
mitt 20 

766 No. XIII; or, The Story of the 
Lost Vestal. Emma Mar- 

shaU 10 

770 The Castle of Otranto. Hor- 
ace Walpole 10 


TUB SEASIUE LIBRARY.— Pocket Edition. 


MiscelFaneous— Continued. 

773 The Mark of Cain. Andrew 

Lan^ 10 

774 The Life and Travels of ]\Iungo 

lp3-i*lc 10 

776 P.6re Goriot. HenorS be Bal- 

zac 20 

777 The Voyages and Travels of 

of Sir John Maundeville, Kt. . 10 

778 Society’s Verdict. By the au- 

thor of “ My Marriage ” 20 

786 Ethel Mildmay’s Follies. By au- 

thor of “Petite’s Romance’’. 20 

787 Court Royal. S. Baring-Gould 20 


793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon. 
Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 

Beaconsfleld. First half 20 

793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon. 
Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 
Beaconsfleld. Second half. . . 20 
801 She Stoops to Conquer, and 
The Good-Natured Man. Oli- 
ver Goldsmith 10 

803 Major Frank. A. L. G. Bos- 

boom-Toussaint 20 

807 If Love Be Love. D. Cecil Gibbs 20 
809 Witness My Hand. By author 
of “ Lady Gwendolen’s Tryst ” 10 


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A NEW PEOPLE’S EDITION OF THAT MOST DELIGHTFUL OF 
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Alice’s AovEpees itt Wonderlaud. 

By LEWIS CARROLL, 

Author of “ Through the Looking-Glass.” 

With Forty-two Beautiful Illustrations by John Tenniel. 

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LATEST ISSUES: 


NO DWTOIP 

669 Pole on Whist 20 


751 Great Voyages and Great Navi- 
gators. Jules Verne. 1st half 20 
751 Great Voyages and Great Navi- 
gators. Jules Verne. 2d half 20 

760 Aurelian; or, Rome in the Third 

Century. By William Ware. . 20 

761 Will Weatherhelm. By Wm. 

H. G. Kingston 20 

762 Impressions of Theophrastus 

Such. By George Eliot 10 

763 The Midshipman, Marmaduke 

Merry. By Wm. H. G. Kingston 20 

764 The Evil Genius. By Wilkie 

Collins 20 

765 Not Wisely, But Too Well. By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

766 No. XIII ; or, the Story of the 

Lost Vestal. By Emma Mar- 
shall 10 

767 Joan. By Rhoda Broughton ... 20 

768 Red as a Rose is She. By Rhoda 

Broughton 20 

769 Cometh Up as a Flower. By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

770 The Castle of Otranto. By 

Horace Walpole 10 

771 A Mental Struggle. By “ The 

Duchess” 20 

772 Gascoyne, the SandalWood 

Trader. By R. M. Ballantyne 20 

773 The Mark of Cain. By Andrew 

Lang 10 

774 The Life and Travels of Mungo 

10 

775 The Three Clerks. By Anthony 

Trollope 20 

776 PAre Goriot. By H. De Balzac. 20 

777 The Voyages and Travels of Sir 

John Maundeville, Kt 10 

778 Society’s Verdict. BytheAuthor 

of “ My Marriage ” 20 

779 Doom! An Atlantic Episode. 

By Justin H. McCarthy, M.P. 10 

780 Rare -Pale Margaret. By author 

of “ What’s His Offence?” 20 

781 The Secret Dispatch. By James 

Grant 10 

782 The Closed Door. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 1st half 20 

782 The Closed Door. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 2d half 20 

783 Chantry House. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

784 The Two Miss Flemings. By the 

author of “ What’s His 
Offence?” 20 

785 The Haunted Chamber. By 

“ The Duchess ” 10 


NO. PRICE, 

787 Court Royal. A Story of Cross 

Currents. By S. Baring-Gould 20 

788 The Absentee. An Irish Story. 

By Maria Edgeworth 20 

789 Through the Looking-Glass, 

and What Alice Found There. 

By Lewis Carroll. With fifty 
illustrations by John Tenniel. 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls ; or. The 

White and Black Ribaumont. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 1st half 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls ; or, The 

White and Black Ribaumont. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 2d half 20 

791 The Mayor of Casterbridge. By 


Thomas Hardy 20 

792 Set in Diamonds. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of ‘‘ Dora 
Thorne ” 20 

793 Vivian Grey. By the Right Hon. 

Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 
Beaconsfield. First half 20 

793 Vivian Grey. By the Right Hon. 

Benjajnin Disraeli, Earl of 
Beaconsfield. Second half. . . 20 

794 Beaton’s Bargain. By Mrs. Al- 

exander 20 

795 Sam’s Sweetheart. By Helen 

B. Mathers 20 

796 In a Grass Country. A Story of 

Love and Sport. By Mrs. H. 
Lovett Cameron 20 

797 Look Before You Leap. By 

Mrs. Alexander 20 

798 The Fashion of this World. By 

Helen B. Mathers 10 

799 My Lady Green Sleeves. By 

Helen B. Mathers 20 


800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Spinster. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 1st half 20 
800 Hopes and Fears: or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Spinster. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 2d half 20 
802 A Stern Chase. By Mrs. Cashel 


Hoey 20 

803 Major Frank. By A. L. G. Bos- 

boom-Toussaint 20 

804 Living or Dead. By Hugh Con- 

way, author of “ Called Back ” 20 

805 The Freres. By Mrs. Alexan- 

der. First half 20 

805 The Freres. By Mrs. Alexan- 
der. Second half 20 

807 If Love be Love. D. Cecil Gibbs 20 

808 King Arthur. Not a Love Story. 

By Miss Mulock 20 

810 The Secret of Her Life. By Ed- 
ward Jenkins 20 


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GEORGE MUNRO, Munro’s Publishing House, 
y. O. Box 3761. 17 to Vn Vandewater Street, New York, 


MUNRO’S PUBLICATIONS. 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY 

ORDINARY EDITION. 


GEORGE MUNROy Manro’s Publishinsr Honsey 


/■ 

The following works contained in Thk Seaside Library, Ordinary Edition, 
are for sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address, postage free, 
•n receipt of the price, by the publisher. Parties ordering by mail will please 
er4er by numbers. 


MRS. ALEXANDER'S WORKS. 

30 Her Dearest Foe 20 

36 The Wooing O’t 20 

46 . The Heritage of Langdale 20 

370 Ralph Wilton’s Weird 10 

400 Which Shall it Be? 20 

532 Maid, Wife, or Widow 10 

1231 The Freres 20 

1259 Valerie’s Fate 10 

i 391 Look Before You Leap 20 

1502 The Australian Aunt 10 

1595 The Admiral’s Ward 20 

1721 The Executor 20 

^934 Mrs. Vereker’s Courier Maid 10 

WILLIAM BLACK’S WORKa 

13 A Princess of Thule 20 

28 A Daughter of Heth 10 

17 In Silk Attire 10 

48 The Strange Adventures of a Phaeton 10 

51 Kilnaeny, \ ^ 10 




pr oumoue ADVEgnSEMENT CFlOO years AQOI! 

PEARS’ SOAP 


3iYes 

cora- 


ls 
vnto 
new 
k 


Aerries 

Comely darner brave squires, prdty HUle mmes 
6 saart 6Sk mas^i^ re^ulady use 

PEARS' SOAP 

Rotrs —Socqtmaher to fe Ku^ 

. ^JfdSotp eon 


The New York Moiitlily Fashion Bazar. 


A NEW STORY AND PROBABLY THE LAST 
By Mary Cecil Hay, 

ENTITLED, 

“A WICKED GIRL,” 

WILL BE COMMENCED IN THE JULY NUMBER 

OF THE 

New York Monthly Fashion Bazar. 


We give below the Author’s letter in regard to the story: — 

MR. GEORGE MU^RO: 

Deap ice writing to you I have decided not to issue my last 

eto»" 'low to “ Called Back,” but, as it is certain to be my 

j ui , out, through Hurst & Blackett, for twelve months (as be- 
,, wiien through Maxwell — not having it to run in serial here at all. But I 
quite willing you should issue it as a serial in America, on the old terms, if 
you care to; and, if so, you can begin on any date you choose, I ask you first, 
because you had “ Lester’s Secret,” and “ Dorothy’s Venture,” etc. But I must 
beg you, if you decline, to wire me ” No,” as I shall wire then to another house. 
You will pardon this request, as my serious illness makes me wish to have these 
matters arranged ; but I will give directions, in case I am not here to receive 
your letter or cable. I am preparing the MS. in seven parts (it is called “ A 
Wicked Girl ” — a good title, do you not think?), and will register them all to 
you on receipt of the old terms — duplicates to follow; or if you prefer to wire 
‘ Yes,” I will mail them before waiting for your letter, as you will be tied to no 
.*ate for commencing, as I have refused .to issue here in any serial. Many 
thanks for the copies of my short stories; many thanks, also, for your pleasant 
letter. It gives me a very glad sensation, after all, to feel that my last tale will 
appear in America in only American dress. 

Yours, very truly, 

MARY CECIL HAY. 

i « 

“ A WICKED GIRL ” will be commenced in the July number 
of the Bazar. 


THE NEW YORK MONTHLY FASHION BAZAR is for sale by all news- 
dealers. It will also be sent, postage prepaid, for 2.5 cents per single copy. The 
subscription price is $3.00 per year. Address, GEORGE MUNRO, Munro’s 
P uBUSHiNG House, 17 to 27 Vande water Street, New York. (P. O, Box 3751.) 




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